


The Road Home

by Maxine_Gold



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Dealing With Trauma, Eventual Smut, He's not dead, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mention of Past Suicide Attempt, Slow Burn, Some bad language, Therapy, but not really, not until the last chapter though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-04 10:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18602332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxine_Gold/pseuds/Maxine_Gold
Summary: McKay gets captured and is forced to work on Ancient Tech.  Everyone on Atlantis believes he's dead, until he manages to get a message to them.  When they rescue him, John finds a beaten, broken, and far too-quiet Rodney.  Can John help put him back together?  Is there enough of Rodney left to heal?This is a long, slow burn about healing from trauma.  None of the torture is shown and only some of it is described after the fact.  This is not a story about torture, it is a story about surviving, about picking up the pieces of yourself and moving forward.





	1. A Long Road Home

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm about 10 years too late to this fandom, but when the muse strikes, I've found it's best to listen and go with it! This is the first bit of writing I've done in about 2 years, and the first thing I've finished in about 5 years, so please be gentle.  
> I wanted to do a slow burn Sheppard/McKay fic, but I also wanted to write about healing from trauma.  
> The explicit rating is for the smut at the end (yes, there is smut at the end) not for any graphic depictions of torture. As part of his therapy, Rodney talks generally about what was done to him, but most of it is fairly glossed over. That being said, if you think it might bother you please don't read. There is also mention of an attempted suicide.  
> The time frame might be a little wonky as far as when in the show this takes place. I wanted to use Elizabeth, not Sam, even though I reference episodes that happened after she left. Just go with it.  
> Lastly, I am not a psychologist, and don't pretend to be an expert in PTSD or coping with trauma. I have had a panic attack, that's about the extent of my knowledge on the subject. I apologize for any mistakes.

            He should have seen it coming.

            The Sarrans were interested in McKay from the beginning, no doubt because Rodney had been showing off his knowledge of Ancient technology, as usual.  The Sarrans had quite a bit of Ancient tech, but virtually no understanding of any of it.  So when Rodney started turning things on and showing them what everything was for, they got really excited.

            Especially Ataan, the military leader.  The eager gleam in his eyes when he looked at McKay hadn’t sat right with Sheppard at all.  If only he had acted on that gut feeling, ordered all of them back to the gate there and then, this could have been avoided.

            Ataan kept trying to split them up, insisting that Dr. McKay should get a tour of the science labs while Sheppard, Teyla, and Ronon begin negotiations for trade.  John wasn’t about to let that happen, so he ordered Ronon to go with Rodney.  Ronon wasn’t great with diplomacy anyway.  In hindsight, John wonders if things would have turned out differently if he had been the one to go with Rodney.  Or, better yet, if they had all just stayed together.

            Not that he blamed Ronon for what happened.  The attack on the underground base took them all by surprise, especially as the Sarrans had failed to mention that they were currently at war with the other people who inhabited the planet: the Kyotons.

            It was all chaos and dust and klaxon warnings, and when everything settled again John found himself faced with an extremely apologetic Ataan, explaining that Dr. McKay had been killed in the bombing.  Ronon was alive but injured and needed to get back to Atlantis immediately.

            John didn’t even have time to feel the grief that was clawing at him.  He needed to get what remained of his team out of that place.

            He asked Ataan about Rodney’s body, but Ataan told him there wasn’t enough to take back with them.  Swallowing around the tightness in his throat, John had taken him at his word.  That was his second mistake.

            So they went back to Atlantis.  The Sarrans wanted to renew trade talks but John refused.  As long as they were at war with an enemy people he knew nothing about, Atlantis would not take sides, and would therefore cut any contact.

            They held a memorial service for Rodney.  John gave the eulogy himself.  Afterward, everyone hung around the mess hall drinking and telling stories.  John put in an appearance because he knew Teyla would bug him if he didn’t, but his heart wasn’t really in it, and he slipped away back to his quarters as soon as he was able.

            Life moved forward.  Ronon’s injuries healed and they started to talk about going off-world as a team again.  Elizabeth suggested that he think about replacing Rodney, but fell silent at the look on his face.  To those who didn’t know him well, John seemed to be coping with the loss fairly well.  Teyla, Ronon, and Elizabeth knew better.

            So did Dr. Heightmeyer.

            The truth was that John wasn’t coping, at all.

            Heightmeyer told Elizabeth that John wasn’t ready for active duty yet.  Elizabeth disagreed.  She hoped that sending him back out there would give him more to do than wallow in his own grief.

            It didn’t help, not really, but it did give him something else to focus on.

**************************************************

            It was a full two months after they lost Rodney that they received a message from him.

            Ataan had lied.  Not about the war or the attack by the Kyotons - that had been real - but in the ensuing chaos, Ataan had seen an opportunity to get what he really wanted: Dr. Rodney McKay.

            They’d been forcing McKay to get their Ancient tech working.  Fortunately, he’d come across a communication device that he suspected was tuned to Atlantis specifically and managed to hide it until he was alone.  It was just a few lines of text that appeared on the monitor, no way to verify that it was really him, but nobody cared.  If there was even a chance he was alive…

 

            John would have left for the planet right then, but Elizabeth insisted he wait until they could get two teams of marines armed and ready for a potentially dangerous rescue mission.

            They went in under the guise of having changed their minds about establishing trade.  The Sarrans were taken completely off-guard.

            Once they were subdued, Sheppard demanded they show him where Rodney was being held.  It didn’t take much to get one of them to talk.

            The way Rodney looked when John burst into his cell would be burned in his brain for the rest of his life.  He was painfully thin and covered in blood and bruises.  His left eye was swollen shut, and all the fingers on his left hand were broken like they had been bent back one by one.

            When John laid a gentle hand on his shoulder Rodney startled awake, his one good eye wide with panic and he tried to back himself further into the corner of his cell, away from the hands that had roused him.

            “Rodney, it’s me.  It’s John.”  His voice shook a little and he struggled to keep it steady, calm, solid.  “Come on buddy, it’s just me.  We got your message.  I’m here to take you home.”

            Rodney opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.  Instead, he nodded and his breathing slowed, and when he looked at John, he was really looking at him.

            They got him through the Stargate and into the infirmary.  The catalogue of injuries Carson ran through made Sheppard feel ill, but there was nothing so bad that couldn’t be healed with time.  Still, John knew from experience that it wasn’t just about the physical injuries.  Rodney had a long road ahead of him.  But he was home, and John was with him, and he’d help Rodney through this if it took the rest of their lives.


	2. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney recovers in the infirmary. When he's well enough, he is briefed about his ordeal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So grateful for the encouraging comments so far! Thanks for the support! I had a few formatting issues with this chapter, so please let me know if you find any mistakes or strange paragraph breaks.

            The first few weeks back in Atlantis Rodney mostly spent asleep. He would wake occasionally and Carson would force food into him - simple things at first (a mild broth, plain toast, boiled chicken) until his half-starved body could handle more - and then he would drift off again, sometimes mid-chew.

            He didn’t really remember much from that time.  He remembers Sheppard in the chair next to his bed, sometimes asleep, sometimes talking to him (Rodney never talked back, but that didn’t seem to bother Sheppard), sometimes just sitting there looking lost and worried.  Teyla and Ronon would visit sometimes and they would also talk to him, mostly about how much they had missed him and wanted him to get better soon.  Teyla would tell him the news of Atlantis, and Ronon would gently needle him -  “Don’t think this an excuse to get out of training, McKay.  I expect you back on your feet and ready to spar within a few weeks.”

            Still, Rodney didn’t say a word.

            When John pointed this out (in a hushed conversation while they both thought Rodney was sleeping) Carson didn’t seem too worried.

            “He’s still on a lot of pain medication.  I’m sure he’ll find his voice again once he’s feeling better.”

**************************************************

            When at last he was mostly healed and the pain meds had been scaled way back, Rodney was finally spending more time conscious than unconscious.  Part of him wished he’d never reached this point because it meant they would expect him to talk now.  Not just to talk, but to talk about what had happened to him.

            “Good morning, Rodney,” Elizabeth said brightly as she and John came into the infirmary.

            Rodney smiled at them.  They glanced at each other briefly, and Rodney saw the flash of worry there before they turned back to him with their patient smiles.

            “Rodney?” John asked.

            This was it, he was going to have to talk now.  Rodney cleared his throat.

            “John,” he said.  It came out hoarse and too quiet, but he’d done it.  John and Elizabeth smiled genuinely, looking relieved.

            “We were starting to worry they’d, uh, done something to your voice.  I mean, Carson said there was nothing wrong with your vocal cords but...um,” John trailed off.

            Rodney shook his head.  He opened his mouth to speak and both Elizabeth and John waited.  He closed his mouth, swallowed, and tried again.

            “They said… talked too much.  Punished when I… So I stopped.”

            Nothing could disguise the horror and pity in their eyes after this halting speech.

            “Rodney, you’re safe now.  You’re home,” Elizabeth said softly.

            “And nobody’s ever going to hurt you again.”  Rodney saw the cold fury in Sheppard’s eyes and almost believed him.

 **************************************************

            When he was well enough to leave the infirmary they had an official debrief in the conference room.  Elizabeth, John, Carson, Teyla, Ronon, and Dr. Heightmeyer sat around the table with their attention fixed on Rodney.  It made him uncomfortable, like a bug under a microscope.

            “Sorry about this Rodney, but we need to know what happened.  You don’t - if you don’t want to go into detail we understand, but officially we need a more complete picture.”  Elizabeth folded her hands on the table and looked at him.   

            Rodney shifted uneasily and picked absently at the brace on his left hand.

            “I was in the lab with Ronon,” he began, his tone flat but steady.  “There was an attack, some kind of explosion.”  He glanced at Ronon who nodded.  “I was knocked unconscious so I’m not entirely sure what happened after that.  When I came to, I was in a cell.”

            “They told us you died,” Sheppard said.  Rodney nodded.

            “I know.  They made it very clear that no one was coming to rescue me.  That no one was even looking for me.”  He paused to take a sip of water.  “They wanted me to help with their Ancient tech.  Most of it they didn’t even know what it was supposed to do, let alone how to turn it on.  I refused at first, out of principle.  I demanded that they contact you, that they let me go.  I shouted myself hoarse.  I think I was hoping they would decide I was more trouble than I was worth.  It didn’t work.  They stopped feeding me.  They kept me awake for days.  I started...seeing things.  I think I was delirious.  When I stopped talking entirely they brought me food, blankets, let me sleep.  When I was well enough they asked me about the tech again.  I agreed to help them.  I spent hours in the labs, always closely supervised, going through the tech they had acquired; identifying and repairing.  Most of it was useless or beyond repair.  I worked as slowly as I could.  I was only allowed to talk about the tech.  If I complained or asked questions they would take something from me - my bedding, my food.”  Emotion began to creep in, his voice rising higher, unsteady.  “I called one of the scientists a moron once and they held me down and-” Rodney cut off abruptly as the memory threatened to overtake him.

            “Rodney, breathe.”  He looked up at John who was staring back with a calm reassurance.  He was breathing too fast, his heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest.  “Rodney, stay with me.  Just breathe.  Come on - with me: in - two - three and... out - two - three.  Keep going.  There you go.”

            They breathed together, Rodney’s eyes glued to John’s like they were the only two people in the whole universe.  After a few moments, his breathing returned to normal, his heartbeat slowed.

            “Sorry,” he said.

            “You have nothing to apologize for,” John assured him.

            “Maybe we should take a break,” Elizabeth suggested.  Rodney shook his head.

            “No, I’m fine.  I want to get this over.”  They waited for him to drink more water and compose himself again.  “Things didn’t get really bad until after I found the weapon.  I tried to lie, to convince them it was just another bit of useless tech, but one of the scientists I was working with, Tolma, she was smarter than the others.  She told them what it was and they all got very excited.  They’re at war with another nation on the planet, as I’m sure you know, and this weapon could have ended it.  Not just end it, it could have killed every single Kyoton - just wipe them all out of existence.  The problem was that it had obviously been sabotaged.  I think the Ancients realized what they had created and wanted to be sure no one would be able to use it.  Why they didn’t just destroy it, I have no idea.  Repairing it was going to be difficult, but it wasn’t impossible.  I knew I could do it, but I told them I couldn’t.  They didn’t believe me.  They threatened to starve me again.  I told them it didn’t matter because there was nothing I could do.  They beat me.  Body blows at first - they were careful about hitting me on the head too much, didn’t want to damage this precious brain of mine.  I finally told them the truth - Yes: it was a weapon.  And yes: I could fix it.  But I _wouldn’t_.”  Rodney paused as the memory swam up before his eyes.

            _He was on the floor gasping for the breath that had just been knocked out of him.  His lungs were on fire, his ribs seemed to throb.  He was pretty sure they had cracked at least one or two of them._

            _“Stop lying, Dr. McKay.  Tell us the truth - you can fix the weapon,” Ataan said._

            _Rodney coughed and spat blood._

            _“Okay, fine.  Yes, I can fix it,” he looked up, right into Ataan’s eyes, “but I won’t.  You can starve me, beat me, whatever.  But I’m not going to help you commit genocide.  I would rather die.”_

            _“We’ll see about that.”_

            The room was dead silent for several minutes.

            “That was incredibly brave of you, Rodney,” Teyla said and the emotion in her voice made his eyes sting.  He blinked rapidly and stared hard at the table.

            “It was also incredibly stupid,” John said.  Rodney looked up, surprised.  “What the hell were you thinking?  You should have just fixed the stupid thing and let them end their war.  Maybe they would have let you go!”

            “And what, just live with the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people on my hands?”

            “Yes!”

            “You don’t really mean that, John.”

            “Yes I do.  You sacrificed yourself for a bunch of strangers.”

            “Would you have fixed it?”

            “You’re damn right I would have!”  Rodney just looked at him.  “Ok, no I probably wouldn’t have but…”  He looked at him helplessly.

            “I refused to do any more work,” Rodney resumed his story, “Not just on the weapon but everything.  They tortured me.  Every day something new, every day a little worse.  I knew I was reaching my breaking point.  So, I told them what they wanted to hear, I told them I would repair it.  They thought I was broken.  They put me in the lab and I pretended to work on the weapon.  I told them it was missing a piece, that we needed to go through more tech so I could find it.  I was really looking for a way out, anything I could use to help me escape.  I was desperate.  I finally found the communicator.  It was obviously Lantean in origin.  They weren’t watching me as carefully anymore.  They thought I was compliant, that they had tortured any defiance out of me.  I managed to hide the communicator and used it as soon as I got back to my cell.  And then I waited.  You know the rest.”

            No one was looking at Rodney now.

            “Thank you, Rodney,” Elizabeth said, a slight quiver to her voice, “I know that wasn’t easy.”  She gestured to her right, “Dr. Heightmeyer will see you tomorrow at 10 -”

            “No, I don’t -”

            “That’s not a request, Rodney.”

            “Fine.”


	3. Right there, but so far away...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney struggles to reconnect with his friends, and John struggles with a too-quiet Rodney.

            Rodney was pacing his quarters when the door chimed.  He was unsurprised to find John on the other side, that slow easy smile on his face as if everything was fine and he was just dropping by to see if he wanted to grab dinner.  Rodney wasn’t fooled.

            “Hey buddy, I’m surprised you’re here.  I would have thought you couldn’t wait to get to your lab and start berating your staff for everything they messed up while you were gone.”

            Rodney shrugged.  The smile slipped a little.

            “Um, well, since you are here, do you want to get dinner with me?”

            Another shrug.  “Sure.”

            They were silent on the walk to the mess hall.  John kept stealing glances at him.  Rodney tried to ignore them.  When they entered the mess, Teyla and Ronon were already seated and obviously waiting for them.

            “John, Rodney,” Teyla greeted them, “Would you like to join us?”  John looked at Rodney expectantly for a moment.

            “Yeah, of course we’ll join you,” he said, after it became clear that Rodney wasn’t going to speak.  “Why don’t you sit, and I’ll get us some food.  Nothing with citrus, I promise.”

            Rodney would have argued, but there didn’t seem to be much point.  He knew what they were doing and that they meant well.  It wasn’t their fault.  He couldn’t tell them - didn’t know how to tell them - that it had all been for nothing.  The rescue, the medical care, all of it had been for nothing.  Rodney could see that now.  He was broken.  He knew it from the first moment John looked at him in that cell…  Rodney didn’t know what exactly they had rescued that day, but it wasn’t _him_ , it wasn’t Dr. Rodney McKay, arrogant-egotistical-genius-extraordinaire.   _That_ Rodney McKay had died at the hands of the Sarrans.  The man currently sitting in the mess hall wasn’t the same man that had sat at this same table with these same friends more than three months ago.  He was merely a shadow.  A ghost.

            He watched them try to engage him, watched the worry flit over their faces when he only gave one word answers, watched the false smiles, the veneer of everything-is-fine.  He watched as though from a great distance even though he was right there, sitting beside them.  He wanted to reach out, to grab Sheppard’s sleeve,  shake him and say “help me” but he didn’t.  He couldn’t.  He was right there, but he was so far away.

**************************************************

                He was too quiet.  John didn’t like how quiet he was.  Rodney had always been loud.  He was loud when he was excited about some new piece of technology they discovered.  He was loud when he was panicking because they were all going to die and he was the only one who could save them.  He was loud when he was complaining about having to trek through forest or desert or any other terrain.  He was especially loud when he was calling everyone in the vicinity an idiot because they couldn’t keep up with his genius.  The only time Rodney was quiet was when he was asleep, and even then, as John knew from having shared a tent with him on more than one occasion, he tended to mutter nonsense every so often.

                This new, silent Rodney was unnerving.  Not only that, but John had missed Rodney’s babbling.  He’d even missed the complaining.  Hell, he missed Rodney calling him a _moron_ at least once a day.  He thought about what Rodney had said during the briefing about calling one of the scientists a moron and the soldiers had held him down and…  What?  Rodney hadn’t finished that sentence, leaving John to fill the gap with his own horrible imaginings.

                He knew Rodney had left a lot out of that story.  “They tortured me” was pretty vague.  But John had seen him in that cell.  He’d heard Carson’s report on every last injury, and he knew a little something about torture.

                _“They said I talked too much.”_

                John felt anger, molten hot, pour into his stomach and radiate out.  He wanted to punch something.  It was a shame Ataan had been killed in the assault, John would have liked to draw it out a little longer.

                Another thing he didn’t like was how Rodney picked at his food.  Rodney had always been an enthusiastic eater and now he was mostly just pushing his food around his plate.  He was still on the skinny side and needed to put on some more weight and he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t eat.  Besides, John missed Rodney’s tummy.  That slight round softness at his middle, the broad shoulders and meaty thighs.  He wanted _his_ Rodney back, solid and whole, not this fragile, quiet waif sitting next to him.

                John nudged a second bowl of jello toward his friend, hoping it would entice him.

                In the kitchen, someone dropped a bowl and it’s clangs echoed loudly through the mess.

                Rodney shot out of his chair and dropped to the floor, his arms over his head protectively, curled into the smallest ball he could manage.  He was shaking and rocking and muttering pleas to an invisible foe.  Everyone in the mess had frozen and were staring at him.

                John got down on the floor next to him and started talking him down in the calmest, steadiest voice he could muster.

                “Rodney, you’re ok.  You’re safe now.  No one is going to hurt you.  Rodney, it’s John.  Can you look at me?  I’m right here, I’m not going to hurt you, just look at me.  There you go.  It’s me, I’m right in front of you.  I’m not going anywhere.  Just breathe, Rodney.  I’ve got you.”  He held out a hand and Rodney took it.  He pulled Rodney to him, wrapping his other arm around his shaking shoulders.  He stroked his back and kept talking, telling him he was safe.  When he looked up he saw Teyla and Ronon herding everyone out of the hall.  Ronon glared menacingly at one particular scientist who didn’t seem to want to leave his dinner, but left in a hurry when Ronon started slowly advancing on him.

                The two of them took up positions by the door, ensuring that no one would come in.

                The shaking finally stopped and Rodney’s breathing evened out.  John pulled back a little and looked down.  Rodney had dropped off to sleep, no doubt crashing once the adrenaline left his system.  John lifted him in his arms too easily - he was really going to have to see that Rodney ate more.  Teyla and Ronon fell in behind him as he carried Rodney out of the mess.  Everyone who had been forced out were now standing around in the hallway and stared wide-eyed at them as they passed.  John didn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day! Hope you enjoyed them!


	4. The Broken Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney has his first session with Dr. Heightmeyer. Later, he calls on John to help him through another panic attack after a nightmare.

                “I heard you had an incident in the mess hall yesterday.  Would you like to talk about it?”

                Rodney felt the uncomfortable stab of embarrassment.  No, he didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want to talk about any of it.  But here he was, sitting in Dr. Heightmeyer’s office and he knew she wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer.

                “Not sure what to say about it,” he tried instead.

                “Let’s start with what you think happened.”

                “There was a loud noise.  Someone dropped something.  After that, things get...fuzzy.”

                “Colonel Sheppard said you had a flashback.  What were you remembering?”

                Colonel Sheppard said what?  Rodney frowned.  How could Sheppard have possibly known it was a flashback and not just a panic attack?  And why was Sheppard telling Heightmeyer anything anyway?

                “Don’t know.”  

                Dr. Heightmeyer sighed.  “I think you do know, Rodney.  I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

                “You think you can help me?”

                “Yes, I do.  Do you?”

                Rodney looked out the window.

                “It’s ok, you can be honest, Rodney.  Do you think I can help you?”

                “No.”

                “Why not?”

                “It’s not...you.  It’s… no one can help me.  There’s… there’s nothing left to help.”

                “You’re here, aren’t you?  You’re alive.”

                Rodney shook his head.  “I’m alive, but I’m not...me.  The Rodney McKay you knew is dead.  He died in that cell on that planet.  I’m just a… I’m not whole.”

                “I know, Rodney.  But in time, and with help, maybe you can be made whole again.”

                “‘Maybe?’”

                “I can’t promise you’ll go back to being your old self and everything will be fine.  You’ve been through something incredibly traumatic.  That sort of experience changes people.  If you drop a cup on the ground, it shatters into pieces.  But you can pick those pieces up and, with a little patience, glue them back together until the cup is whole.  The cracks will still be there, a reminder of the break, but the cup will hold water again.”

                “I’d probably just throw out the pieces and buy a new cup,” Rodney muttered.  Dr. Heightmeyer smiled.

                “I don’t think I’m ready to give up on this cup just yet.  Neither is Colonel Sheppard or Teyla or Ronon or Dr. Beckett or -”

                “Yes all right, I get it.  I’m a broken cup and everyone is just waiting to glue me back together.  Did I mention that I hate metaphors?”

                Heightmeyer’s smile widened.

                “I’ll try to keep them to a minimum.  Now, are you ready to get started?”

**************************************************

                “Rodney!”

                He stopped to give John a chance to catch up.

                “How was your first session with the doc?” he asked as they resumed walking in the direction of Rodney’s quarters.

                “Surprisingly good.”

                “That’s great!  Hey, uh, where are you headed now?”

                “Quarters.”

                “Really?  You don’t want to go to the labs and try working a little?”

                “Technically ‘M not cleared for work,” Rodney pointed out.

                “Psh, like you’ve ever let that stop you before.”

                Rodney stopped walking and John followed suit.

                “Not sure I’m ready to be back in a lab again.”  John’s eyes widened and he blanched.

                “God, Rodney, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…”

                “‘S fine.  Really.”  He started walking again and it took a second for John to catch up.

                “Well how about lunch then?  It’s a little early, maybe more like brunch but…”

                “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

                “I, um, what?”

                “I’m not going to fall apart if you’re not by my side every waking hour.”

                “Well, to be fair, I was sitting right next to you when you fell apart yesterday.”

                Rodney stopped walking again to stare at him.  John just shrugged.

                “What?  It’s true.  It’s really not a big deal, you know.  I mean, everyone understands.  With what you went through, you’re entitled to fall apart a little.  Come on, come have lunch with me.  You’re still too skinny, Carson says you need to put on a few pounds.  Let’s go see if there’s any of that chocolate cake left.”  He slung an arm over Rodney’s shoulders and steered them both toward the mess hall.

**************************************************

                “John?  John, are you there?”  Rodney’s voice, higher than usual and accompanied by gasping breath, echoed through John’s quarters.  He always made sure to reroute any communications from his earpiece directly into the comms in his room before he went to bed so it would be easier to reach him in an emergency.  And at the sound of Rodney’s panicked cries he had never been so glad.

                “Rodney?” he said, shoving the radio in his ear and clicking it on.

                “John?  I’m not - I can’t -” Rodney was having difficulty getting words out around his labored breathing.

                “Don’t move, I’m on my way.”  John threw on a t-shirt over his boxers and left his quarters at a dead run.  Thank whoever was listening that Rodney’s quarters were only a couple hallways away.

                The door slid open before he could even reach for the chime and he was through it in a heartbeat.

                For a second, he couldn’t see Rodney and his heart sank.  Then he heard a half-sob and found him in the corner farthest from the door, clutching his knees to his chest and struggling to breathe.

                John moved slowly toward him, hands out, giving Rodney a chance to see him and recognize that he wasn’t a threat.

                “Hey buddy,” he said as he went.  Rodney looked up, his face pale, his blue eyes too wide and bright with fear.

                “I - can’t - breathe -” he gasped.

                “Yes you can.  You’re all right.  Why don’t you tell me what happened?”  John was still moving slowly forward, curving slightly to the left toward the wall so that Rodney would have a clear view of the door - an escape if he needed it.

                “Night - mare.  Bad.”

                “OK, well you’re awake now, and it can’t hurt you.  And I’m here.  I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”  John had gotten as close as he dared and slowly (so slowly his knees protested) he crouched down so he was on Rodney’s level.  “Hey buddy.  I need you to take slower breaths, ok?  Look at me, look at my chest,” he placed a hand on his own chest and took a slow even breath in and then out.  “With me, yeah?  In… and out…”

                Rodney struggled with breathing for a few more seconds before he began to find the rhythm, his eyes glued to Sheppard’s hand on his chest.  They continued to breathe together for another few minutes until Rodney was breathing easily and deeply.  John leaned forward then and put a tentative hand on the other man’s knee.  Rodney covered it with his own.

                “Thank you.  I’m… I don’t know what happened.  You don’t have to stay, I’m sorry I woke you-”

                “Don’t be.  Really.”

                Rodney withdrew his hand and straightened his legs a little so that John’s hand fell away.

                “I think I’m ok now, you can go back to sleep.  I’m sure you’re tired.”

                _Not as tired as you,_ thought John, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

                “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” he said, moving so he could sit next to him with his back against the wall.  “Do you want to tell me what the nightmare was about?”

                Rodney leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  They were close enough to brush against each other slightly as they breathed, and for John to feel the warmth radiating off his friend.  He was tempted to scoot even closer as he was only in boxers and a short sleeve shirt and the room was a little too cool, but he didn’t want to crowd Rodney.

                “They came to take me back,” he said after a pause so long, John was beginning to wonder if he’d fallen asleep.

                “I don’t suppose pointing out that that could never happen would be all that helpful?”

                Rodney made a sound that might have been second-cousin to a laugh.

                “For one thing, they don’t know the address," John continued.  "For another, they don’t have an IDC.  For a third, most of the ones who were...holding you, were killed when we came to rescue you.  And finally, and most importantly, I would never let that happen.”

                “You tried to stop them.”

                “And?”

                A shudder went through Rodney.  “They killed you.”

                John picked up one of Rodney’s hands and pressed it to his own chest.

                “Wha-?” Rodney started, his eyes opening and his head turning toward John.

                “Feel that?” John said softly.  Rodney waited, confusion swirling through his eyes, and then they cleared and he looked into John’s eyes with a tentative kind of hope.  “I’m alive.  My heart beats, my lungs pump air in and out…  I’m alive, and I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

                They stayed like that for another half dozen heartbeats, and then Rodney pulled away again and John let go of his hand reluctantly.

                “Thank you, again.  This... talking helps.  I think, maybe, I might be able to get some sleep now.  You can go.  It’s late.”

                “OK, now I’m starting to get offended.”

                “What?” Rodney said whipping his head back around.

                “Well that’s the third time you’ve tried to get rid of me.  And I showered before bed, so I know I don’t stink, and last I checked we were friends, so I know I can’t annoy you that much.  And, ok, so I’m basically a moron compared to your brain-power but that’s never bothered you before so…”

                “You’re not a... moron.”

                “Ok, ok, yeah there’s the whole MENSA thing, so maybe not a _moron_ , maybe just a run-of-the-mill idiot.”

                Rodney made that sound again, but this time it was much more closely related to a laugh.

                “I don’t think there’s anything ‘run-of-the-mill’ about you, John Sheppard.”

                “Was that a compliment?” John touched his chest in mock surprise, “From the great scientific genius, Dr. Rodney McKay?  A man so arrogant he once blew up an entire solar system before admitting he might be wrong on occasion?”

            “Shut up,” Rodney said, but the corners of his mouth had twitched upward almost imperceptibly.

                “A man so brilliant he devised a way to create a matter bridge between two universes in order to draw zero point energy - “

            “Well, actually, Jeannie was the one-”

                “A man so competitive and egotistical-”

                “OK, you know what?  I take it back: you are an idiot.”  They grinned fiercely at each other, and John felt a flutter in his stomach.  Something must have showed on his face because McKay’s smile dropped like someone hit a switch.

                “What?  What’s wrong?” he asked.  John swallowed and smiled widely.

                “Nothing.  I’m - it’s just nice to see you smile, Rodney.”

                “Oh.  Yeah.  It feels good to… feel good again, if that makes any sense?”

                John nodded, relieved that Rodney bought it.  For a moment, when he looked into his friend’s blue eyes - bright with humor, his grin wide and genuine - John had felt something that was definitely Not-Friendship.  It was a tug, low in his gut.  A flutter in his heart.  He knew that feeling.

                But he most definitely was not allowed to have Not-Friendship feelings about Rodney McKay, his best friend and teammate.

                John shivered.

                “Geez, I’m sorry,” Rodney said suddenly, taking in John’s state of dress, “you must be freezing.  Do you want -”

                “Yeah, I should probably go -” John cut off at the flash of hurt in Rodney’s eyes.   _God dammit! I_ am _an idiot.  Here I’ve just been trying to convince him he’s more than an inconvenience and there I go screwing it all up just because I can’t tell the difference between Friendship and Not-Friendship feelings,_ John berated himself.

                “Yeah, of course, you should go -” Rodney was saying, carefully avoiding eye contact.

                “No.  I mean… I don’t want to go.  I’m happy to stay, I just, uh… maybe a blanket?”

                Rodney perked up again immediately.

                “Sure.  Um… I don’t think I can sleep yet.  Do you…?”  John waited for him to finish.  “We could watch something…?”

                “That sounds great.  I’m not sure I could go back to sleep yet either.”

                They helped each other up off the floor (both of them were too old to sit like that for long without getting stiff) and Rodney started moving papers and books off the small couch that sat near his desk.  John grabbed the comforter off the bed and the two of them settled down under it together.  Rodney set his laptop on his desk chair and maneuvered it in front of the couch, cueing up an episode of Red Dwarf and hitting play.

                At some point in the middle of the second episode, Rodney dropped off to sleep, his head pillowed on John’s chest.  John sneaked an arm around him and pulled him closer, turning toward the warm body pressed against him slightly, and laying his cheek against the back of the couch.  He’d probably wake with a crick in his neck, but he didn’t care.  He fell asleep listening to Rodney’s deep, even breaths.


	5. Jeannie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeannie Miller visits her brother and struggles with what she finds.

            Rodney stood in the control room with John and Carson, waiting.

            “Hey, it’s just your sister, there’s no need to be so nervous,” John said, leaning in a little so the techs behind them wouldn’t hear.

            “‘M not nervous,” Rodney said distantly.  John looked pointedly at the way Rodney kept pulling at his sleeves.  Rodney’s hands stilled instantly and he let them fall to his sides.

            “Exactly how much did you tell her again?” he asked.

            “Well, obviously, when we thought you were dead we told her… you know, that you were dead,” Carson said.  “Then, when you weren’t dead, we uh… told her you weren’t dead...after all.”

            “Right.  Obviously.  But what did you tell her about...you know...what happened.”

            “She knows you were held against your will, Rodney.  And she knows you were in...bad shape when we got you back.  But I did not disclose any specific details about your...injuries.”

            “Right.”  Rodney stared at the Stargate.

            “Everything you told us in the official briefing was deemed classified,” said John.

            “But?” Rodney prompted.

            “But I spoke to her-”

            “When?”

            “When you were still unconscious in the infirmary.”

            Rodney grunted.

            “She pressed me for details about where you had been held, about what you looked like when I...when we rescued you.”

            Rodney was very still now, his body stiff with tension.

            “And what did you tell her?” he asked.

            “Not much.  Just that you were hurt, but we got you out, and you were going to recover.”

            _‘Recover,’_ Rodney thought bitterly.   _Like getting over the flu._

            He didn’t want to see Jeannie.  He loved her, but he didn’t want to see her yet.  It felt too soon, he felt too fragile.  When he’d brought it up to Dr. Heightmeyer she had tried to tell him that Jeannie was coming to support him, not judge him for being vulnerable, and that he didn’t have to put up a front for her.  He didn’t have to be strong.

            But he did have to be strong.  She was his little sister; he was supposed to be there for her, not the other way around.  The fact that he’d hardly been there for her for most of their adult lives just made it worse.  He wasn’t over the guilt he felt for abandoning her, and he didn’t want to burden her with his trauma.

            The Stargate came to life, and Rodney tried to steel himself.  John put a calming hand on his shoulder and Carson patted his back.  Rodney wished they wouldn’t.  It made him feel more fragile, not less; like he needed them just to stay on his feet.

            Jeannie stepped through the Stargate with two SGC personnel and spotted Rodney coming down the stairs toward her.  She dropped her bags and ran forward, throwing her arms around him.

            “Mere!  Oh god, Mere!  It’s really you - you’re alive!  I didn’t quite believe it, not until I saw you just now.”

            Rodney had frozen on the last step, his arms halfway to embracing her, but not actually touching.

            “What is it?” Jeannie asked, pulling back so she could look at him, having to angle her neck back as he was a step above her.  “Are you OK?  Mere?  Talk to me.”  She shook him a little and Rodney flinched.  His mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out.

            “Easy, Jeannie,” said John, who had been hovering.  He took Jeannie’s shoulders and eased her back a bit, giving Rodney space.  “Let’s just let him breathe a bit, OK?”

            Jeannie looked from one to the other, her eyes wide with worry.

            “Yeah, of course.  Sorry.  I didn’t mean… Mere, are you OK?” she spoke slower this time, not so frantic, and Rodney nodded.

            “‘M fine, Jeannie.  Just...a little overwhelmed.”  Jeannie was still staring at him with those too-wide eyes so he tried to reassure her: “Really, I’m OK.  I’m just... seeing you is…”

            “What?” she interrupted and Rodney saw John wince.  “You don’t seem OK.  Seeing me is what?”

            “Maybe we should take a breath here,” said John, looking over Rodney’s head to Carson for support.

            “Yes,” Carson agreed, “perhaps we can all go have a nice cuppa in the mess?  Jeannie, you must be hungry, I’ll have someone take your things to your quarters, and the four of us can get a bite to eat.”

            Jeannie was still staring at Rodney, but it was less panicked and more thoughtful now.  Her eyes swept over his face, pausing at the scar over his eyebrow before continuing over his whole body.  There wasn’t much to see when he was clothed, especially as he always wore long sleeves now, but he watched her cataloguing his too thin frame, the way he opened and closed his left hand to ease the stiffness of recently healed broken fingers, and how he subconsciously pulled at his cuffs to be sure his arms were covered.  By the time her eyes reached his again, he could see that her worst fears were confirmed.  Neither of them had ever been great at hiding their feelings, they tended to wear their hearts on their sleeve, which was also why they had each built their own defenses over the years.  Rodney used his intellect to belittle and mock, keeping everyone at arm’s length, while Jeannie used her convictions and innate stubbornness to force others to make space for her.

            Looking at her now, he saw that she had been hoping it wasn’t that bad; that, yes, he had been held for two months by some not-great people, but ultimately he was OK, maybe banged up a little, but nothing too serious.  Now she looked afraid that not only had it been as bad as she feared, it had been worse.

            He wanted to say something, to reassure her that he was still her brother, the same arrogant ass he’d always been.  But he couldn’t.  He wasn’t.  So he didn’t say anything.

            “Yeah, sure,” Jeannie said at last.  “Let’s get some food.  Is that OK, Mere?”

            He hated the change in her tone.  It was how almost everyone talked to him now: like an injured animal they’re trying to convince to let them help.

            “Yeah,” Rodney said brightly, “that sounds great!  I’m starved!”  He could see he’d over-sold it, but Jeannie just smiled sadly and took his arm.

**************************************************

            John kept the conversation to easy topics, and Rodney had never been more grateful.  He asked about Kaleb and Madison, and Jeannie filled them in on her latest work.  Rodney forced himself to ask a few pointed questions about her equations and Jeannie tried to start a few light-hearted arguments but stopped when she realized he wasn’t really going to engage.  A flash of that intense, panicked worry crossed her face again, and it was almost enough for Rodney to try and pick a fight, but then it passed behind her sad little smile and she squeezed his arm.

            Rodney wasn’t wild about being touched these days (with the exception of John, who managed to touch him just the same as he had before Rodney was held captive and tortured).  He pulled away from her as subtly as he could, but she noticed and looked at his arm with a frown.

            “So Jeannie, how would you like a tour of Atlantis?” John asked with a not-so-subtle clearing of his throat.  “We’ve explored more of the city since last you were here.  Plus, you’ve never even been to the mainland.  We could take a jumper…?  Also, the east pier is a must to watch the sunset.  What d’you say?”

            Jeannie looked like she wanted to refuse - Rodney was sure she was itching to get him alone - but seemed to think better of it.

            Carson excused himself, saying he had to get back to the infirmary, but agreed to meet them for dinner after sunset.

            Somewhere along the tour, they ran into Teyla who joined them.  They didn’t end up taking a jumper to the mainland, but made plans to do so the next day so they could take a picnic and really make a day of it.

            For dinner, they pushed two tables together to accommodate the larger group.  Carson rejoined Jeannie, Rodney, John and Teyla, and soon after they were also joined by Ronon and Elizabeth.  With so many people, it was easy to keep the conversation going, and Rodney felt the pressure to contribute ease off, allowing him to be silent.  Jeannie kept trying to engage him, but John ran interference and eventually she got the hint and stopped.

            They sat together long after their meals had been eaten, and it wasn’t until Elizabeth mentioned it was getting late and that she needed to get to bed that the group broke up and went their separate ways.

            John insisted on walking Jeannie to her temporary accommodations, and Rodney thought he might get away with slipping back to his quarters alone, but one look from Jeannie told him he wouldn’t get off that easy.  So he and John both walked Jeannie to her rooms.  At the door, John had one hand on Rodney’s shoulder and tried to say ‘goodnight’ while steering him away.  Jeannie frowned at both of them, and Rodney sighed and gently shrugged off John’s hand.

            “I’m gonna stay.  Make sure Jeannie settles in,” he said.  John looked like he wanted to argue.

            “You sure?  It _is_ late, and we have a whole day of mainland fun planned tomorrow, so…”

            “I’m sure.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            John continued to hesitate, wearing an expression Rodney couldn’t read.

            “OK then,” he said finally, “Goodnight, buddy.  ‘Night, Jeannie.”

            They each murmured ‘goodnight’ and Rodney shut the door.  He turned to find Jeannie studying him, the intense worry back on her face.

            “Talk to me, Mere.  How are you?  And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit, because I know you’re not fine.”

            Rodney crossed to the bed and sat down, staring at his clasped hands.

            “What do you want me to say?” he asked.

            “I - What happened to you?”

            “You really want to know?”  His eyes remained on his hands, but he could feel her go still.  “I’ll show you, Jeannie.  If you really want to know what happened - if you really want to know what they did to me - I can show you.  I can show you the scars if that’s-”  She lunged forward and threw her arms around him.

            “Oh, Mere…” she sobbed into his shoulder.  He let her hold him, let her cry.  His own eyes were dry, and he wondered why he felt so numb.  He hadn’t cried once since he’d been rescued.  He’d panicked and he’d hyperventilated, but he hadn’t cried.  What was wrong with him that he couldn’t cry, even with his own sister?  _Oh right_ \- he was broken, that’s why.

            “You don’t have to show me, Mere.  Not if you don’t want to,” Jeannie said, once her tears had slowed.  She was still hanging onto him like she was trying to keep him from shattering.  

            Ha.  Little did she know, he was already shattered.  Just pieces of a broken cup trying to put itself back together….  

            “I just… I want to help you.  Tell me how to help you.”  She pulled back to look at him.

            “I don’t know, Jeannie,” he said, unable to keep the exhaustion out of his voice.

            _I wish I knew what to tell you,_ he wanted to say.   _I wish you could fix me.  I wish_ I _could fix me.  I wish we’d never gone to that stupid planet.  I wish they hadn’t left me broken.  I wish I’d never been rescued._

            But he didn’t say any of that.  He couldn’t - not to Jeannie, not to anyone.  And he was just so _tired…_

            “OK,” Jeannie said calmly, “It’s OK, Mere.  I’m going to take care of you.  We’re going to figure this out.”

            He wished he believed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next were probably the hardest for me to write. I came to the idea of Jeannie visiting late in the writing process, but it bothered me that his sister wouldn't insist on seeing for herself that he was alive and okay, so I ended up adding these chapters. I hope they don't feel out of place.


	6. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeannie talks with Heightmeyer in an effort to understand what her brother is going through. Then, as her visit comes to a close, she asks John some pointed questions.

            Rodney slept worse than ever that night.  It seemed like every time he drifted off, he fell headfirst into a nightmare, each progressively worse.  He finally gave up around 0500, pulled on clean clothes and went to knock on John’s door.

            John answered in nothing but his boxers, hair even more chaotic than usual.

            “Hey buddy, everything ok?” he asked, voice still rough with sleep.

            “Can’t sleep,” Rodney said to the floor.

            “You want to come in?” John asked with a yawn.  Rodney shook his head.  “OK, how about coffee, then?”

            “Okay.”

            “Let me just pull on some clothes.”

            Rodney waited outside while John dressed, and then they walked silently to the mess hall.  They got their coffee, John snagged two pudding cups, and headed out onto the east pier.  It was a little chilly still, but the sun coming up was warm.  They settled about halfway down the pier and sipped their coffee while watching the waves crash against the walls of Atlantis.

            “Something on your mind?” John asked.  Rodney frowned into his coffee.  “Your sister, perhaps?”  Rodney took a sip and frowned further.  The coffee was just this side of too-bitter - probably brewed at too high a temperature to really bring out the flavor.  “You have to give her time, Rodney,” John sighed.  “She’s trying.  And I know it isn’t easy for you.  None of this is easy, and it’s not going to get any easier.”

            Rodney grunted.

            “She just wants you to be okay.  We all want that.”

            “Feels...demanding,” Rodney said.  “Like there’s a schedule, and if I don’t stick to it - if my...recovery takes longer than…”

            “It doesn’t matter,” John cut him off gently.  “It’s going to take as long as it will take.  You don’t owe anyone anything, not even Jeannie.  Your recovery is your own, and nobody gets to judge you for how long it takes or how you get there.  Jeannie will understand that.  She's struggling right now because she doesn't know how to help you and it scares her, but she'll get there.”

            They sipped their coffee while Rodney thought about that.

            “You’re good at this,” he said at last.

            “Thanks, I… thanks.”  John looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t, and Rodney didn’t press him.

            They broke out the pudding cups and ate in silence.  It was a comfortable silence this time, without so much weight behind it.  Rodney appreciated that John didn’t pressure him to talk, that he let him just be.

            When they’d finished their coffee and pudding, they headed back into the city.  As they reached the point where they would have to break off to go to their separate quarters, John put his hand on Rodney’s shoulder, stopping him.

            “I know we have this whole day trip thing planned, but if you don’t want-”

            “No, it’s fine,” Rodney cut him off.  “It will be good to get out for a while, show Jeannie the mainland, get some fresh air… Not have to think so much.”

            John nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and turned down the hall to his quarters.

**************************************************

            Getting away from Atlantis _was_ good.  They all piled into a jumper; Rodney, Jeannie, and Teyla up front with John piloting, while Ronon, and Carson were in the back with the picnic supplies.

            They put down near a beach John had surfed at before, and set out blankets and food.

            Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, talking and eating and laughing together with ease.  Jeannie hovered near Rodney, but didn’t force him to join the conversation.  John, Teyla, and Ronon went swimming, and Jeannie and Carson rolled up their pants and waded out a little ways.  Jeannie tried to get Rodney do the same, but he refused, preferring to lay on the blanket and watch the others splash around in the waves.

            In the afternoon, everyone settled down to nap in the shade or lay out in the sun, breaking into smaller groups.  At dusk, they built a bonfire and huddled around it to eat dinner.  By the time they headed back to Atlantis, Rodney was tired in a good way, and went off to bed feeling more relaxed than he had since before who-knew-when.

**************************************************

            Jeannie knocked on the door to Dr. Heightmeyer’s office early the next morning.  She introduced herself, and Heightmeyer invited her to come in and sit.

            “What can I do for you, Jeannie?”

            “Mere - Rodney,” she corrected, “I just need to know how he’s doing.  I know he’s been working with you, and I need to know how that’s going.”

            “I’m sorry, Rodney’s treatment is confidential.  Unless he gives explicit permission, I cannot disclose anything we have discussed or anything about his psychological well-being in general.”

            “I realize you can’t go into detail, all I’m asking is for you to tell me how he is.”

            “I think you want me to tell you something qualitative about Rodney’s mental state, but even if I could, I wouldn’t.  There simply is no measure for dealing with trauma of this nature.  I can’t point to a timeline and tell you that Rodney is here,” she gestured to a point on an imaginary line, “and that I expect him to progress to here,” she raised her other hand to a place further along the line, ”by such-and-such a date.”

            “Okay… can you at least tell me he’s going to be alright?” Jeannie asked, frustration leaking into her tone.

            “No, Jeannie, I can’t.  I’m sorry, I can see that you are concerned for your brother and that you need some reassurance, but that’s just not how this works.  I’m seeing Rodney later today, if you would like to attend, and Rodney agrees, we could maybe discuss this further.  In the meantime, I’d be happy to talk about you, and how you’re feeling about this situation.”

            “How _I’m_ feeling?  I really don’t think it matters how _I_ feel.  Mere’s the one who was hurt, who almost _died._ ”

            “Of course it matters.  You thought you lost your brother, then you found out he was alive, but that he’d been through a terrible ordeal.  That would be a lot for anyone to deal with, and there’s no shame in needing to talk about it.”

            “I just… We haven’t always been close, you know?  But the last few years… he’s really made an effort - we’ve both really made an effort.  And it felt great, you know, to have my brother back.”  Jeannie paused to wipe away a tear with the back of her hand.  “So when I got the call - when they told me he was dead, and that I couldn’t even come to the funeral…  And then, two months later, I get another call - that he’s alive, but hurt bad enough he can’t be transported back to Earth, and I have to beg them to let me see him, and even then it takes over a month before I’m cleared, despite the fact that I’ve signed the non-disclosure, _and_ I’ve been to Atlantis before, and I get here, and he’s alive, but he’s not - he’s not _himself._  He’s not my brother.  He’s quiet.  My brother has never been quiet!  Mom used to say he was born talking!  But now he’s quiet, and withdrawn, and he pulls away when I touch him.  And it’s so obvious that he’s in pain, and I want to help.  I want to do something.  But everything I do seems to make him withdraw _more_.  The other night I held him and cried, and he just sat there.  He didn’t cry, he didn’t hug me back, he was just… blank.  I don’t know how to help him.  I don’t know how to fix it.  How do I fix it?”  Jeannie was sobbing now.  Wordlessly, Heightmeyer passed her the tissues and waited for her to calm down again.

            “You can’t fix it, Jeannie.  And that, more than anything, is the hardest part about being close to someone coping with trauma.  That impulse to do something - the feeling that if you just say or do the right things, it will make it all better - you have to let that go.  There are no ‘right words’ you can say to magically heal your brother.  You can be supportive, and you can be available, and you can help him when he asks for help but -  the only one who can heal Rodney, is Rodney.  My advice to you: listen.  Be patient.  Be there.  Don’t crowd him, and don’t push him.  Let him tell you when he’s ready to talk, and understand that he might never get to that point with you.  Every relationship is different, he might not ever feel comfortable confiding in you.”

            “But I’m his _sister._  If not me, who?”

            “You’re his _little_ sister, and while you are both adults, those roles still matter.  He may feel the need to protect you from the full truth of what he went through.  You have to respect that, and trust that he knows best what he needs.  When he opens up, it will be to the person he feels most comfortable with, someone he knows will be able to handle the truth and give him the kind of support he needs.”

            “You mean John, don’t you?”

            Heightmeyer was silent.

            “I see the way they are with each other - John’s the only one who can touch Mere without him flinching or pulling away.  And when anyone asks Mere anything, he looks at John before he speaks, like he’s looking for reassurance or approval.  I don’t think they even notice it, but I do.  They were always close, there was even a time when I thought…” she trailed off.

            “Yes?” Heightmeyer prompted.  Jeannie hesitated.  Heightmeyer obviously took doctor-patient confidentiality very seriously, but even so, Jeannie wasn’t sure she should be revealing things about her brother that even _she_ wasn’t entirely certain.  She’d always suspected that Mere was attracted to both men and women, but, as far as she knew, he’d never actually dated any men, so she might be wrong.

            “Nothing, never mind.”

            They were silent for a moment, broken by a beeping sound from Heightmeyer’s watch.

            “Time’s up?” Jeannie guessed.  Heightmeyer pressed a button on her watch and the beeping stopped.

            “Yes, I’m afraid so.  I have a patient in a few minutes.”  Jeannie stood and threw her used tissues in the bin next to Heightmeyer’s desk.

            “OK.  Thank you, Doctor.  I really appreciate you making the time to speak with me.”

            Heightmeyer stood as well and held out a hand to shake.

            “You’re welcome anytime, Jeannie.  I don’t know how long you’re here, but my office is always open.  And ask Rodney if he’d feel comfortable letting you come to a session.  It could be beneficial to both of you.”

            “Thanks, I don’t know if he will, but I’ll ask.”

**************************************************

            “Your sister came to see me this morning.”

            “She told me.”

            “She’s very concerned about you.”

            Rodney sighed.

            “I know.  She asked if she could come with me to see you.”

            Heightmeyer nodded.

            “Yes, I suggested that she ask you.  I thought it might be good for both of you.  Would you consider letting her come to a session?”

            Rodney leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs and stared at his clasped hands.

            “No,” he said.

            “Why not?”

            “I can’t talk about what happened to me with her.”

            “Why?”

            “I don’t want her to know.  I don’t want her to look at me with - with horror and...pity.  The way everyone looks at me now.  She’s already treating me like I’m fragile and that’s just with her guessing.  If she knew the truth… the full nightmare reality…”

            “Maybe she’s stronger than you think.  Maybe she could handle it.  Maybe what she imagines happened is worse than what actually happened.”

            Rodney looked up at her.

            “OK, maybe not that last one,” Heightmeyer amended.

            “I know she’s strong.  Stronger than me, probably.  But I don’t want her to have to be strong like that.  I don’t want to burden her.”

            “You think it would be a burden?”

            “I know it would be, because it is.  If I could erase the memories, I would.”

            Heightmeyer thought for a moment.

            “Rodney… I’m not saying it wouldn’t be difficult for her, or anyone.  But sometimes a burden shared, is easier to bear.  You wouldn’t have to tell her everything, you wouldn’t even have to go into detail, if you didn’t want.  All I’m asking is that you let her in a little.  Or if not Jeannie, then someone else.  You’re going to need support.”

            “Isn’t that what you’re for?”

            “Yes and no.  Yes, I’m here to support you, but it’s also my job to push you.  Our relationship is professional.  You need people in your daily life, people who care about you.”

            “You don’t care about me?”

            “Of course I do,” she said with a small smile, “I care about all my patients.  And I want you to succeed.  But I’m not your friend, or your family.”

            Rodney got up and went to the window.  He liked looking at the waves while he was thinking, they were calming.

            “All right,” he said, turning back to look at Heightmeyer.  “Jeannie can come to a session.”

            “Do you want to get her now?  We still have 40 minutes left.”

            Rodney nodded.  Heightmeyer turned to pick up her radio from her desk, slipping it in her ear.

            “This is Dr. Heightmeyer, will someone please locate Mrs. Jeannie Miller and have her come to my office?  Thank you.”

**************************************************

            Having Jeannie there was strange at first.  Rodney didn’t know what to say, but Heightmeyer was good at her job, and she guided them through the awkwardness.  She encouraged Jeannie to express her concerns over Rodney’s reticence, and Rodney explained, haltingly, why talking was hard for him now.

            He didn’t go into detail, but he shared enough to make Jeannie cry again.  He watched her tears fall and wished he could do the same.

            “Why am I so numb?”

            “Is that how you feel?  Numb?” Heightmeyer asked.

            “When I’m not feeling blind panic, yeah.  I just feel… nothing.”

            “I thought you seemed a little...flat.  I figured you were trying to pretend you were okay for me,” Jeannie said.

            “I am - I was.  But I’m also… I know what happened, and I know I should be feeling more, but I just can’t.  I’m either scared and panicking, or I’m numb.”

            “That’s perfectly normal,” Heightmeyer assured him.

            “It is?”

            “Absolutely.  You’re still processing, Rodney.  Give yourself time.  You’ll get there.”

**************************************************

            Jeannie felt better after the session.  She tried not to pressure Mere to speak any more than he was comfortable, and she didn’t ask him any more questions about what happened to him.  They spent the rest of her visit walking around Atlantis, or spending time on the mainland, sometimes with a large group, sometimes with just one or two of Mere’s friends.  John hung around the most, when he wasn’t off-world.

            The night before she was supposed to leave, they had a farewell party in a room near the east pier, with a large monitor.  Someone brought _Independence Day_ to play on the big screen while people ate and drank and talked.

            Jeannie was talking with Zelenka and Mere about a proof she was working on when she spotted John alone in the corner, half-watching the movie, half-watching everyone else.  She excused herself and went over to him.

            “John,” she said.

            “Jeannie,” he nodded.

            “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

            John sipped his drink.

            “About?”

            “I just want to thank you, for everything you’ve done for Mere.”

            John tried to wave her away.

            “You don’t have to thank me.  Really.”

            “No, I know.  But I want to anyway.  I don’t know what he would do without you.  I see how much he relies on you, and you’ve been so good for him.  I wish… I thought I could do more, you know?  Help somehow.  But in the end, I think I’ve done more harm than good.”

            “That’s not true.  Rodney loves you, Jeannie.  Having you here, it’s been good for him.  He hasn’t had a panic attack once since you got here.”

            “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I think he’s been working so hard to hold it together for me, he’s stopped progressing.  I’m hoping that when I leave, he’ll get back on track.”

            “He’s doing fine, Jeannie.  It’s going to take time.”

            “I know,” Jeannie sighed.  “That’s what Dr. Heightmeyer said.  I just wanted to tell you how glad I am that he has someone like you to lean on.  Someone who obviously cares about him.”

            “A lot of people care about him.”

            Jeannie looked around the room.  Every person there thought of her brother as a friend.  It was a lot more people than Mere had ever been able to count as friends before.  She was glad he’d found a place here - true, he’d had to go to another galaxy to find it, but she got the sense that everyone in Atlantis were outsiders at one time or another.  Now they were a family and Atlantis was their home.  Part of her was hurt that Mere couldn’t find that with her and Kaleb and Madison back on Earth, but it was a small part.

            “I can see that.  But it’s more with you, isn’t it?” she said slowly.  John stiffened almost imperceptibly, and very carefully didn’t meet her eyes.

            “What makes you say that?” he asked.

            “Little things.  Things probably no one else would pick up on because the bond seems so natural here.  But I’m on the outside of it, you know?  I’m not one of you… Lanteans.”

            John nodded, staring into his glass.

            “I want to ask you something,” Jeannie pressed on, “but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.  Are you in love with my brother?”

            John took a large swallow of his drink.

            “Even if I was,” he said slowly, “I couldn’t be.”

            Jeannie frowned.

            “You mean because of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell?”

            “That… and because the last thing Rodney needs right now are more confusing feelings.  I care about him.  Beyond that… I don’t know.  I’m not really sure how I feel, and it wouldn’t be fair to put that on him.”

            “And if he feels the same?”

            “He’s not feeling much of anything right now, I guarantee it.  He barely knows which way is up.  I promise that even if he did feel the same… he wouldn’t recognize it right now.  There’s too much other stuff he’s dealing with.”

            “I know, but this… this could be a good thing.  This could help him with all the other stuff.”

            “Or it could freak him out further, and compromise the relationship we have now, when, by your own admission, I’m one of the few people he’s relying on to help him through this.  I won’t jeopardize that.”

            Jeannie decided to let it go.  She wanted Mere to be happy, but she trusted that John knew what he was talking about.

            “Is Rodney…?” John trailed off.  “That is, does he even…?”

            “I don’t know.  Not for sure.  I always thought he liked both.  There was this boy who lived down the block from us when we were growing up.  I suspected Mere had kind of a thing for him, but he would never tell me.”  Jeannie shrugged.

            “Huh.”

            “Maybe… when he’s better…?” Jeannie suggested.  She knew she should let it go, but just couldn’t help herself.

            John looked at her, then he looked at her brother across the room.

            “Maybe.”

**************************************************

            Jeannie went home the next day and Rodney had a panic attack later that afternoon.  John wondered if she’d been right, although - as he talked Rodney down - this didn’t seem much like progress.  John stayed with him for the rest of the day, and, once again, they fell asleep on Rodney’s couch while watching a movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky for you guys, my insomnia kicked in, so you got both Jeannie chapters early! We're just more than halfway through, so I'll probably have the whole thing posted by mid-week. Thank you so much for the comments! I want you all to know that your heartbreak makes me cackle like a supervillain.


	7. "What did I say about metaphors?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney makes progress in therapy, and has a request for Teyla.

            “This isn’t working!”

            “Yes it is, Rodney, you just have to give it time.”

            “I’m not getting any better!  In fact, I think I’m getting worse.  The nightmares are so bad now I’m barely sleeping.  I still haven’t been able to set foot in my lab.  Everything seems to be a trigger, I never know what will set me off!”

            “Rodney, you’re shouting.”

            Rodney, who had been pacing as well as shouting, stopped to look at Dr. Heightmeyer.  She was smiling.

            “I’m... what?”

            “Three weeks ago you were barely able to speak in complete sentences, and it was always very quiet, like you were afraid to make too much noise.  Now, you’re shouting.  That’s progress.”

            “Yeah, OK, great.  I relearned how to raise my voice.  Yippee for me.”  He sat heavily in the chair opposite her once more and folded his arms over his chest.

            “Remember what you said to me in our session with Jeannie?”

            “What?  No.  I’m sure I said a lot of things.”

            “You told me that emotionally you only had two settings: scared or numb.  And those have been your defaults since your trauma.”

            “To be fair, those were pretty much my defaults _before_ the trauma,” Rodney muttered.

            “But now, you can add anger to those settings,” she continued, ignoring him.

            Rodney blinked at her.

            “Yeah, so?  How is that better?”

            “Rodney, that’s a huge milestone because it means that you’ve healed enough to start opening up, to allow yourself to feel more.”

            “RIght.  Look, I know I said that’s what I wanted, that I didn’t want to feel numb, but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.  Anyway, shouldn’t I be trying to feel less?  The _feeling_ is what’s messing me up.”

            She shook her head.  “No.  Look: you shut down during the trauma to keep yourself from feeling everything.  The physical pain was enough to deal with as it was, without having to deal with the psychological pain.  So, in order to survive, you shoved your feelings behind a wall.  The problem with that is: shoving the trauma behind a wall only works for so long.  Eventually, you are going to feel it - _all of it_.  What we’re trying to do is build you up enough before that happens so that when you do finally feel it, it won’t destroy you.”

            “So anger is a good thing?”

            “Anger can be a great thing.  It can fuel you.  It can push you forward, if you let it.”

            Rodney got up and started pacing again, slower this time.

            “But I feel angry all the time now.  I couldn’t open my pudding cup the other day and I got so angry I threw it against a wall.  Teyla asked me how I was feeling and I actually snapped at her.  Teyla.  Probably the sweetest woman who could kick my ass I’ve ever known!”

            “Well, like any emotion, anger has its downsides.  You need to let it fuel the fire, not burn down the whole forest.”

            “What did I say about metaphors?”

            “You need an outlet,” she said pointedly.  “Something physical.  I know it seems cliche, but hitting things is actually very therapeutic.”

            “You mean I should punch a pillow…?”

            “I was thinking more along the lines of a punching bag.  I’m sure any one of your teammates would be happy to help you train.  Or, there are always a few classes available; I think Major Hendricks offers a kickboxing class on Tuesdays.”

            “Hendricks scares the shit out of me.”

            “She’s really very nice.”

            Rodney scoffed at that.

            “Well, something else then.  I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

**************************************************

            “Hey, um, Teyla?” Rodney approached the table with his head ducked and an awkward shuffling of his feet.  “About the other day…I’m sorry I bit your head off, you were just trying to help and I-”

            “You have nothing to apologize for,” Teyla cut him off.  “I understand that you are under tremendous stress and I’m sure you must be sick of people asking you how you are.”

            “Oh.  Good.  Yes.  Thanks,” he said, but still didn’t sit down or look at any of them.

            “Buddy, you gonna eat lunch standing, or did you want to join us?” John said after a moment.  Rodney finally looked up at him and with the flash of blue eyes, John felt that tug in his stomach again.

            “Right,” he said, claiming the empty chair beside Teyla and starting in on his food.  John was pleased to see his friend tucking in with some enthusiasm again.  He’d put most of the weight he’d lost back on, and was looking much healthier overall, if still overtired.

            Conversation resumed, John once again trying to explain the finer points of golf to Ronon, who still maintained it didn’t sound like much of a sport.  It was easy -  comfortable even - the four of them occupying their usual table, bantering with each other, the conversation jumping from topic to topic with ease.  But Rodney was still too quiet.  Before, he had often dominated the conversation, no matter the subject.  He would interrupt, talk over, and generally be louder than all of them.  Now, he only spoke when there was a measured pause.  Without discussing it, John, Teyla, and Ronon tended to pause for longer than normal whenever they thought Rodney might say something.

            When they’d finished eating, conversation dropped off entirely as they all sat back and sipped their beverages.  John found himself frowning into his now-cold cup of coffee, wondering if it would be worth getting up for a refill when Rodney spoke up.

            “Um, Teyla?”

            “Yes?”

            “I was wondering… that is, Dr. Heightmeyer thought it might be beneficial if I…”

            Teyla waited, and John realized that was something else they all did now, wait for Rodney to finish speaking without prompting him.

            “I’d like to train...with you.  Just some basic self-defense, if that’s all right?”

            “Of course, Rodney.”

            “The doc said some physical training might help with...with some of the stuff I’m...feeling,” he explained as though he needed to justify the request.  “And Carson says I’ve put most of the weight back on, but none of the muscle tone so...yeah.”

            “I would be happy to train you, Rodney,” she said, laying a hand on his.

            “Thanks,” Rodney said, and smiled at her.  The smile warmed John’s heart, as well as the fact that Rodney didn’t pull away from Teyla’s touch.

            “What about me?” Ronon asked.  Rodney looked at him, startled.

            “Um...what?”

            “I could help you train too.”

            “Yeah… I seem to recall trying that once before and it didn’t work out so well for me.”

            “I promise to go easy.  Well...easier.”

            Rodney seemed to struggle with some internal battle before nodding.

            “Yeah, OK.  I guess that would be good,” he said, his voice higher than usual.

            “Well now I just feel left out,” John said.

            “You want to train me too?” Rodney quirked an eyebrow at him.

            Now that he said it out loud, John realized it might not be the best idea.  Thoughts of Rodney sweaty and flushed - of pressing himself against his back in order to guide him through a correct punch.  That could prove very dangerous if the Not-Friendship feeling kept making itself known.  But the offer was out there, and he couldn’t take it back now.

            “Yeah, why not?”

            “Great, let’s get going,” Ronon said as he stood and clapped a hand on Rodney’s back.

            “Wait, now?” Rodney squawked.

            “Why not now?” Ronon asked.

            Rodney looked lost for a moment.  “But we just ate,” he said.

            “That’s good, you’ll have energy.  Let’s go.”

            Teyla and John exchanged smiles as Ronon ushered a still-protesting Rodney out of the mess hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know. But the next one is going to be long, I promise.


	8. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney finds focus and release in training, but when a session goes wrong, Ronon is left wondering how he can help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big feels happening in this chapter! Please be mindful of the tags. I don't think anything is too graphic, but there is some description of past torture as Rodney tries to deal with what happened to him and the scars it left behind.

            Training did make him feel better.  It was slow going - he had never been a natural athlete and any endurance he had built up was gone now - but Teyla and Ronon were amazingly patient with him.  John insisted that the other two were more than enough to teach him to fight, and opted to help in other ways, which is how he and Rodney started jogging in the mornings.  Rodney knew John was a runner and that he was likely holding way back in order to accommodate Rodney’s slower pace, but he appreciated it all the same.

            Teyla had him focusing more on strength training and flexibility (which was good considering he could barely bend far enough to touch his toes), as well as meditation.  So it was Ronon who really taught him to fight.  Rodney had asked Teyla originally because she scared him less than Ronon, but in the end he was incredibly grateful that Ronon had seen fit to volunteer.  He could be surprisingly patient, and always seemed to know just how far to push him without pushing him over the edge.  He was teaching Rodney techniques for what he called ‘defensive fighting’ meaning ways to keep you alive and unharmed while you looked for a chance to get away, but he also threw in some moves to seriously injure a larger opponent with minimal effort.

            The first time Rodney sent Ronon into a wall with enough force to warrant a trip to the infirmary, Ronon hadn’t been able to stop grinning.  Rodney - convinced that the grin was either because Ronon had hit his head hard enough to knock something loose, or else simply the promise of payback - stammered apologies all the way through Ronon’s head exam (he was fine, not even a concussion, just a lump on his head where it had collided with the wall), and only stopped when Ronon gripped his shoulders firmly and forced him to look him in the eyes.

            “My friend, you did exactly as I taught you.  You saw me coming and reacted instantly, using my own momentum to send me flying.  It was perfect, and I have never been more proud.”

            Rodney turned rather pink and muttered something about not meaning to hurt him, but Ronon just laughed and clapped him on the shoulders.  For a whole week after that, Ronon told the story to any- and everyone who would listen.

            The training gave him purpose, gave him more to do than just reflect on everything that had happened.  He was still angry a lot of the time, but when the rage threatened to overwhelm him, he would go to the gym and punch a bag until he was exhausted.  It was also useful for relieving the stress he felt whenever the team went off-world.  He still wasn’t cleared for duty, but that didn’t mean John, Teyla and Ronon were just going to sit around and wait for him to get his head on straight.  Dr. Parker had replaced him for the time being, though John made a point of reminding him that Parker was temporary, and that as soon as he was ready, his spot on the team would be waiting.

            Of course, one could only exercise and meditate so much.  Even after he started to build up his endurance, Rodney tired fairly quickly - perhaps partly because he still wasn’t sleeping well.  Filling the rest of his time was proving more and more difficult.

            “I feel...restless,” he confessed to Heightmeyer in one session.

            “Well, you’ve found ways to cope physically, but what about mentally?”

            “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?”

            “Yes, but that’s only part of the process.  You’re an incredibly smart man, Rodney, your brain needs more to do than training and dealing with your trauma.  Have you considered going to your lab?  Maybe trying to get back to work?”

            Rodney stared at his hands sitting quietly in his lap.  He had scars almost everywhere, but not on his hands.  Even the fingers they’d broken were whole and perfect looking now.  He might never have known if it weren’t for the way they ached slightly in the cold and damp.  He flexed them a few times before curling them into a fist.

            “I’m afraid,” he said.

            “Of what?”

            He wasn’t sure he could explain it, and got up with a frustrated sigh.  He stood in front of the window and looked out at the endless ocean.

            “I’m afraid it’s tainted now.”

            “What’s tainted?”

            “Physics,” he said, gesturing vaguely, “science, technology.  Everything I used to love…”

            “You think working on Ancient tech will trigger you?”

            “No.  Yes.  I don’t know.  I just know I… I don’t want them to win.  Not this.”

            “What do you mean by ‘win’?”

            Rodney started pacing, running a hand through his hair.

            “What if I try to go back to work and I can’t because it reminds me…?  They took so much from me, I don’t know what I would do if they took this too.  My intellect, my work, it’s all I have.  If they get that…” he stopped pacing.

            “But by staying away, haven’t they already taken it from you?  You’re never going to know if it’s lost for good if you don’t at least try.”

            “You know, sometimes you can be a real pain in the ass.”

            “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be doing my job right,” she said with a smile.

**************************************************

            “Rodney?” Zelenka said when he noticed Rodney hovering in the doorway to the main lab.  With a deep breath, Rodney took a few more steps forward until he was standing in the lab proper.

            “Zelenka, what are you working on?”  

            Rodney was relieved when Zelenka launched into an explanation of the piece of tech found on MX8-033 without asking Rodney why he hadn’t been in the labs since he was rescued, or any kind of “how are you?” questions.  He suspected that Radek knew him better than almost anyone and therefore knew that Rodney would prefer to focus on work.  A few of the other scientists were shooting not-so-subtle looks at him, and two of them were actually whispering in the corner.  Rodney tried to ignore them.

            Fortunately, the work soon drove everything else from his mind.  Zelenka and the others had managed to figure out what the device did (it was a kind of storage device similar to how the Wraith darts stored the people they culled) but they hadn’t been able to get it working.  Rodney found the problem almost immediately and started fixing it.

            When that was done, there was another project, and then another after that; he didn’t stop working until John came to find him for lunch and Rodney was shocked to find that three hours had gone by.  It felt somewhat anticlimactic, if he was being honest.  He’d expected to freak out or have a flashback or something.  Instead, he’d just done what he always did: get caught up in the excitement of working on new technology, argue with Zelenka, and berate them all for being wrong.  It felt...normal.

**************************************************

            After lunch, John and Teyla were taking supplies to the Athosians and headed off toward the gate room while Rodney and Ronon went to the gym.

            Everything was fine until it wasn’t.

            One minute Ronon was showing Rodney a new arm hold which applied pressure to the elbow and shoulder, forcing a larger opponent into compliance, and the next moment Rodney was screaming and curled up in a corner of the gym, rocking and crying.

            Ronon was frozen, not knowing what to do or how to help.  He remembered how John had comforted Rodney in the mess hall and tried to do the same, but the second he moved forward, Rodney screamed again and put his arms over his head.  Rodney was rocking slowly and there was a quiet keening coming from him that broke Ronon’s heart to hear.

            John was the only one he could think of to help, but John was off-world with Teyla.  If Rodney were in physical pain, Ronon would call in a medical team, but that wasn’t exactly the problem here.  Finally, Ronon thought of Dr. Heightmeyer.  This was her area of expertise, wasn’t it?  He tapped his radio.

            “Dr. Heightmeyer to sparring gym…” he hesitated, trying to remember the right designation, “three.  Gym three.  It’s an emergency.”

            “This is Heightmeyer, what is the emergency?”  Came the response over Ronon’s headset.

            “It’s Ro- Dr. McKay.  Something...just hurry.”

            “I’m on my way.”

            Rodney was silent now, but still curled in on himself, rocking and shaking.  Ronon crouched down and crawled toward him slowly.  Stopping a few feet away he sat, trying to make himself as small and unintimidating as possible.

            “Hey buddy.  Dr. Heightmeyer is on her way, but I just, uh, want you to know I’m here.  And...and you’re safe.  I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.  McKay?  Do you hear me?  Rodney?”

            The door to the gym opened and Dr. Heightmeyer stepped through, her eyes taking in the situation with a clinical professionalism that Ronon appreciated.

            “What happened?” she asked him.

            “I don’t know, one moment he was fine and then…” Ronon gestured at the quaking figure in the corner.  “I tried talking to him but it’s like he can’t hear me.”

            Heightmeyer nodded and moved slowly toward Rodney.  Ronon made a move to get up but she gestured for him to stay where he was.

            “Rodney?  It’s Dr. Heightmeyer.  You’re in Atlantis.  You’re in the gym with myself and Ronon Dex, your friend.  You know Ronon, he’s been helping you train.  He’s your teammate.  He was there when you were rescued.  Him and Teyla and John, they got you out of there, they brought you home to Atlantis.  Look at him, Rodney.  Look at Ronon.  You’re safe here.  You’re with friends.  Look at Ronon, he wants to help you.”

            The rocking stopped and Rodney slowly lifted his head.

            “Ronon?” he croaked.  Ronon glanced at Heightmeyer who nodded encouragingly.

            “Yeah buddy, it’s me,” Ronon said, once again using the endearment he’d picked up from Sheppard.  “I’m here with you.  We’re in the gym, remember?  In Atlantis.”

            Rodney unfolded a little further and his eyes seemed clearer, more focused.

            “That’s it, Rodney,” Heightmeyer said, “come back to us.”

            “What happened?” he asked.

            “You tell us, Rodney.  What were you seeing?”

            “I...I was in the lab.  The guards grabbed me, they were holding me down, holding...my arm out.”

            Ronon felt a wave of guilt thinking about how he had been showing Rodney an arm hold before he went off.

            “It’s ok, Rodney,” Heightmeyer encouraged, “you can tell us what they did.  It’s in the past, it’s just a memory now.”  Rodney was clutching his left forearm and shaking his head as if to rid it of the memory of what they did.

            “There was a...a soldering iron. They used it to-to… I can’t do this!”  Rodney clutched his head in frustration.  “I don’t want to do this anymore!  I just want it to stop.  I don’t want to remember, I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want- I don’t want to _feel_ anymore.”

            “I know you don’t.  And I’m sorry.  But when you bottle it all up inside you, it comes out in other ways.  Ways you don’t want it to.  You have to find a way to let it out safely.  You have to find a way to let it go.”

            The three of them sat in silence for a long time, and Ronon thought that if Heightmeyer was hoping Rodney would tell them the rest, she was going to be disappointed.  She must have come to the same conclusion because she let out a small sigh and got up.

            “Ok, Rodney.  Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow.  I have another patient in 10 minutes.  Are you and Ronon going to be okay?”

            Rodney nodded dully.  Heightmeyer squeezed Ronon’s shoulder and left.  There was another few moments of silence in which Ronon wished she had stayed.  He wasn’t good at this sort of thing.

            “You ready to get up off the floor, buddy?” he tried.

            “Yeah, OK,” came the flat reply.

            Ronon pushed to his feet slowly, then offered Rodney a hand.  He only hesitated for a second before taking it and letting him pull him up.  Ronon found himself staring at Rodney’s forearm, wondering what the guards had done.  McKay never wore short sleeves anymore, not even when they were training, so Ronon had never seen any of his scars apart from the small one over his left eyebrow.

            Rodney snatched his hand away and when Ronon met his eyes he saw a fierce defiance, as though he were daring him to ask.  Ronon ducked his head in shame.  He hadn’t meant to stare, especially since he knew what it felt like to be stared at like he was barely human.

            “Sorry,” he mumbled, “about… Just, sorry.”  He hoped Rodney would understand that he was apologizing for all of it; for staring, for setting him off, for not being able to help more… for leaving him behind in the first place.  He’d been with Rodney that day, it had been his job to look after him.  He had failed.  Maybe Rodney read some of that guilt because his face softened.

            “It’s okay.  Not your fault,” he said.  But Ronon wasn’t sure he could let himself off that easily.

**************************************************

            Ronon sought out Dr. Heightmeyer as she was closing up her office for the day.

            “Doctor, do you have a minute?”

            She paused on her way out.

            “Of course, Ronon, would you like to come in?”  She waved the lights back on, but Ronon shook his head.

            “No, I’d rather just, uh, well… maybe some other time...”

            Heightmeyer waved the lights off and closed the door behind her.

            “I was just going to get dinner, how about you walk me there?”

            Ronon nodded gratefully and they started walking slowly toward the mess hall.

            “Doc, did I… what did I do wrong?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well, McKay was fine one moment and then I was showing him this move, and I was holding his...arm.  I just, he’s never had a reaction to anything like that before and we’ve… I mean, we’ve been training for a while, and I’ve touched him and moved him and demonstrated moves on him… That is - I’ve never hurt him.  I’m very careful.  But he’s always been fine and then today…”

            “It wasn’t anything you did, Ronon.”

            “It wasn’t?”

            “Well, that is to say: yes, you grabbing or holding Rodney’s arm was probably the trigger.  But,” she looked at him pointedly as his shoulders slumped further with guilt, “no matter what you did, Rodney was going to be triggered by something today.”

            “He was?  How do you know that?”

            “Because, he went to his lab to work today for the first time since he’s been back.  It was a big step, and something that was bound to heighten his stress levels.  Recovery from this kind of trauma is never a straight line.  Every time he moves forward, there are consequences.”

            “‘Every action has an equal and opposite reaction,’” Ronon quoted something he’d heard McKay say often.  Heightmeyer smiled at him.

            “Something like that.”  They walked in silence while Ronon processed this.

            “Doc?”

            “Yes?”

            “If it happens again, is there anything I should do… differently?”

            “You did exactly what you’re supposed to do, Ronon.  You made yourself accessible to him without crowding or forcing him to interact, you talked to him and reminded him that he was safe and that you cared about him, and you called me for help.”

            “I almost didn’t think of you.  My first instinct was to call for Sheppard, but he was off-world,” he admitted.

            “That was a good first instinct.  Colonel Sheppard has demonstrated a remarkable ability to get through to Rodney when he’s having a flashback.  I think Rodney is able to recognize him as the one who rescued him.  And it helps that they were such close friends before this happened.  As I said, you did very well.”  She patted him on the arm.  “He’s lucky to have you as a friend.”

            “Thank you,” he muttered.  She continued toward the mess hall, while Ronon broke off and went in search of Sheppard, who should be back by now.  He found him just leaving his quarters.

            “Hey Chewie, I was just going to grab dinner, you want to join me?” Sheppard said as he pulled on his jacket, his hair still damp from the shower.

            “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,” said Ronon.  Sheppard frowned and stepped back inside, ushering Ronon in after him.

            “What’s up?”

            Ronon told him everything that had happened that afternoon as well as his conversation with Dr. Heightmeyer.

            “Dammit,” John said under his breath, “I wish I’d been there.”  He looked up at Ronon, his expression clearing.  “But it sounds like Rodney was in good hands, and I agree with Heightmeyer: you did everything right.”

            “Thanks, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

            “Oh?  What then?”

            “I- I want - I need to know… what exactly, they did.”

            John frowned again.

            “If you’re asking about McKay’s specific injuries, I can’t-”

            “No, not that.  Not all of it, anyway.  I just want to know… what’s a soldering iron?”

            “Oh.  Well, first of all, whatever they were using probably wasn’t exactly a soldering iron, but whatever alien-equivalent tool-thing,” Sheppard waved vaguely.  “But on Earth, a soldering iron is something used to heat metal to the point of melting so you can join two pieces together, and then when they cool, they stay fused.”

            Ronon was staring at him.  He couldn’t imagine what something like that would feel like when applied to flesh, and Ronon wasn’t exactly a stranger to pain.

            “Yeah,” said Sheppard in response to the look of horror on Ronon’s face.

            “Have you seen… I mean -”

            “No, I haven’t seen the scars.  I mean, I saw him in that cell,” John shuddered, “and I know generally what happened based on Carson’s report, but otherwise, no.”

            “You remember when McKay was hit with that Ascension machine and got all those powers?”

            “Sure, why?”

            “He - he healed my scars.  The ones from the tracker, where I tried…  I wish I could do that for him.”

            “Well, you are doing that, in a way.  Maybe not the physical scars, but the emotional ones.  We can all help him heal those.”

            “I hope so.”

**************************************************

            Rodney opened the door to his quarters to find John with that relaxed everything-is-fine smile that was really starting to get on his nerves.  Rodney moved back to let him in.

            “I guess you heard what happened today,” he said, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed.  He wasn’t going to sit because John would take that as an invitation to sit as well.  He watched John eyeing his defensive body language and could almost see him re-evaluating his tactics.

            “Ronon came to talk to me about it, yeah.”

            Rodney rolled his eyes.

            “Of course he did.  And just who else did he tell?  Hmm?  Should I be expecting a visit from Teyla, too?  Or how about Carson? Or Elizabeth?  Or maybe Major Lorne, is he going to check up on me next?”

            John’s eyebrows had crept up during this tirade and he was now looking at Rodney with a calculating stare that Rodney did not like at all.

            “I’m not sure Ronon has talked to that many people in a month, let alone the last few hours,” he said.  Rodney hated him suddenly.  He hated that calm, wry tone, that slight edge of reproach: a warning for Rodney to lay off before the friendly banter became too much like fighting.  Rodney didn’t care.  He wanted to fight.

            “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m fine.  So you can go now.  Just go back to whatever it is you need to go back to.  You can check me off your list: McKay - still holding it together, check.”

            “Rodney…”

            “What?  What exactly do you want from me?  I’m doing the best I can, OK?  Sorry I can’t be like you and just flash a smile and pretend that everything’s fine.”

            “Whoa, whoa, whoa, nobody’s saying you aren’t doing your best.  And certainly nobody is saying you should just pretend everything is fine.  I know it isn’t fine.  There is nothing ‘fine’ about this situation.”

            “THEN WHY CAN’T EVERYONE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?” Rodney shouted.  “Everywhere I go, I feel people watching me, just waiting for me to fly off the handle.  ‘There goes McKay, the idiot who let himself be captured and tortured, wonder when he’s going to have another meltdown?’”

            “Rodney, no one is saying that, you’re blowing this way out-”

            “Right!  Of course, I’m just _overreacting_.  Well, I guess that happens when you’re held captive and tortured.  Everyone looks at you with pity, their eyes always staring, wondering what exactly they did to me?  ‘Did they beat him?  Burn him?  Slice him up?  Are there scars?  Wonder what they look like?  Wonder how mangled and horrifying he must be now?’  Well, let’s see, shall we?” Rodney began unzipping his jacket.

            “Rodney…” John breathed.  Ignoring him, Rodney threw off the jacket violently, revealing a short sleeve shirt which left his arms and scars plainly visible.

            “Let’s just take a look, shall we?” he said, stretching his arms out.  “Here’s where they bound my hands and the rope cut in when I struggled.  Here’s where they took a chunk of my flesh the size of a quarter with something like a cigar cutter.  And here, here’s my favorite: where they burned the word ‘Moron’ into my arm with a soldering iron.  Love looking at that for the rest of my life, eh?”

            “Rodney,” John said sharply, reaching for him.  Rodney tried to pull away, but John caught his wrist and held on, turning it over so he could see not the outer forearm where “moron” was burned into his flesh, but the softer, more delicate inner forearm where one long deep scar ran straight up from his wrist.  “Oh Rodney,” he whispered.

            Rodney couldn’t meet his eyes.  John traced the scar with one finger and Rodney shuddered, pulling away again and this time John let him go.  He clutched his arm to his chest, wishing he had never started this.

            “They didn’t do that,” John stated.  Rodney shook his head.

            “No, I did that.  I thought if I could end it…” he took a breath that shook.  “They found me before… Weren’t going to let me off that easily.”

            “Mere, I’m so sorry.”  Rodney flinched at the nickname, at the raw grief in John’s voice.

            “Don’t,” he said, tears threatening to spill, “please, don’t.”  John reached for him again but hesitated just short of touching.  Rodney still couldn’t look at him, he just stood there, arm held to his chest, hunched in on himself.  Then John took that last step and put his arms around him.  Rodney tried to hold himself back for a moment, but then he was coming apart, and the emotion flooded through him.  Tears spilled down his face and a low, desperate howl poured out of his mouth.  He clung to John, burrowing his face in his collar, muffling his broken sobs.  John rocked them both, a gentle sway, and ran his hands across his back in soft, soothing circles.

            Eventually, the sobs quieted, the tears slowed, and Rodney pulled away.  He felt ridiculous; first for yelling at John, and then for falling completely apart on him.

            “Sorry,” he muttered.

            “You have nothing to be sorry about,” John said.  “Can we sit?”

            Rodney nodded and they moved to the couch.

            “I’ve never told you this - I’ve barely told anyone this - but when I was in Afghanistan, I was captured and tortured.”

            Rodney stared at him, open-mouthed.

            “I went on a mission alone, against orders, to rescue a friend, Holland.  His chopper went down and he was wounded.  I carried him through the desert for a day, found cover for the night, but he never saw the next morning.  And then I was captured.  I was held and tortured for 8 days until my unit happened to hit the compound where I was.  It wasn’t a rescue mission - they didn’t even know I was there - it was just sheer dumb luck.  Those 8 days were the worst of my life, and I spent years working through the trauma - I still am, in fact, every day.  Because that’s the thing: it never really goes away.  You learn to cope, you put yourself back together as best you can.  The scars heal over and fade, but they never disappear completely.”  He ran a hand over the scars on Rodney’s arm, and left it there, a comforting warmth.  “No one expects you to be better overnight.  We all know it’s going to take time.  The therapist I was required to see after I was rescued told me: ‘Recovery is a road that everyone travels in their own time.  Sometimes there are detours, sometimes you have to retrace your steps, but eventually we find our way home.’  You’re on the road, Rodney, but you’re not on it alone.  I’m here - we’re all here - to help you find your way back to us.  Back to a place where you feel safe and whole again.  But there’s no rush, you’ll get there when you get there.”

            Rodney wiped away the tears which had fallen during this speech.

            “I guess metaphors are a therapist thing - Heightmeyer does that too,” he said hoarsely.  John smiled.  “I’m just so tired,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face.  “I’m sick of feeling like this.  I just want to be  _me_ again.”

            “You will be.”  John squeezed his arm.  “Are you still not sleeping?”

            Rodney shook his head.

            “Maybe…” John trailed off and pulled his hand back.  “You seemed to sleep all right on the couch...with me.”

            “You mean the night I dragged you out of bed because I had a nightmare, or when you had to stay by my side all day because I had a panic attack over nothing?” Rodney said dryly.

            “Maybe if you weren’t alone… I mean, I could sleep on the couch and maybe, knowing I was there, would help?”

            “You would do that?”

            “I’ll do whatever you need, Rodney.”


	9. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's Not-Friendship feelings intensify as he struggles to identify exactly what they mean. Rodney has a major breakthrough in therapy.

            John had always been somewhat of a light sleeper, but the military had trained him to wake at the slightest sound.  When Rodney began to thrash and mutter in his sleep, John was up from Rodney’s couch and by his bedside in an instant.

            “No… no please,” he moaned.  John laid a gentle hand on his forehead.

            “It’s just a dream, Rodney.  Wake up, you’re safe now.”

            Rodney woke with a jerk, his eyes wide, breathing too fast.

            “What-?”

            “You were having a nightmare.  It’s OK now.  I’m here.”  John had hoped that just being in the room would make Rodney feel safe enough to sleep peacefully, but that obviously hadn’t been enough.  “Move over,” he said, coming to a decision.

            “Huh?” Rodney said, blinking at him in the dark.

            “I said ‘move over.’”  Still looking confused, Rodney shifted enough to let John crawl into bed with him.

            “John...you don’t have to-”

            “You need to sleep.  I always slept better when Nancy, my ex-wife, was sleeping next to me.  It was like on a subconscious level I knew that I wasn’t alone, that I was safe at home where they couldn’t hurt me anymore.  It kept the nightmares in check.”

            “That’s really nice of you, but-”

            “No more talking.  We’re sleeping now.  Go to sleep.”  John settled in and closed his eyes, trying to set a good example.  He could feel Rodney staring at him, but he kept his eyes closed.  Eventually, he felt Rodney shift and knew that he had lain back down.  He listened to Rodney’s breathing, listened and waited for the change when he knew he’d dropped off to sleep.  He opened his eyes and turned toward Rodney who was lying on his back, face slack, breath slow and even.  He looked younger like this, and John realized just how tense and worried Rodney had been looking since he came back.  He wanted to reach out, to pull Rodney to his chest and hold him, but he didn’t dare.  That Not-Friendship feeling in John’s stomach was making itself known again.

            He hadn’t let himself dwell on it too much since talking with Jeannie, but laying there next to Rodney, close enough to touch but not touching, he couldn’t help but think about it.  How long had he felt this way?  When he thought Rodney was dead, he’d been devastated.  He’d tried to fake it, to pretend he was okay, but he hadn’t been okay.  Losing Rodney had cut deep.  It had carved out a piece of him and left it empty.  And then, impossibly, he got Rodney back.  But it was a broken Rodney, a scarred and traumatized Rodney.  Maybe, if he’d realized his feelings earlier, he might have done something about them.  But the last thing Rodney needed right now was for John to complicate his life with declarations of… What exactly?  John hesitated to call it love, but what was this feeling if not love?  Of course John _loved_ Rodney, just as he loved Teyla and Ronon… but this was something more.  Was Jeannie right?  Was he _in love_ with Rodney?

            Possibly.

            Shit.

            John had only ever fallen for one other guy before and that had been in high school.  Not that he didn’t find men attractive sometimes (had even hooked up with some from time to time), but he’d only really wanted to be in relationships with women for the most part.  And now, here he was, wishing he could cuddle with his best friend.  John imagined pulling Rodney close, brushing a soft kiss against his lips to wake him.  Kissing down his neck, just below his ear, maybe a whisper of teeth along his collar bone, hearing Rodney inhale sharply, a little gasp of pleasure.  Pushing up his t-shirt to continue exploring, moving down his body, kissing, maybe tracing his scars with his tongue, bringing pleasure to those places of past pain, pulling little moans and eager breaths from him.

            Fingers teasing the waistband of Rodney’s boxers, looking into his eyes for confirmation before pulling them down.  Rodney’s cock, hard and beautiful, springing free.  John takes him in hand, hears Rodney’s breath hitch.  He wants to taste, to feel the weight on his tongue.  He wants…

            “John?  Are you all right?  John, wake up.”  Rodney is shaking him awake and John wonders when he’d drifted off.

            “Yeah, I’m…” _hard,_ he thinks feeling his cock throb.  He chances a look down and is grateful that he’s still on his side and covered by the blanket.  He doesn’t think Rodney’s noticed anything.  “I’m fine, what happened?”

            “You were moaning in your sleep, I thought maybe you were having a nightmare.”

            _I wish,_ John thinks.

            “Oh, yeah, thanks.  Sorry.  I didn’t mean to wake you.”

            “Time to get up anyway,” Rodney said with a shrug, and John noticed how much lighter the room was.

            “Oh, right.”  John doesn’t dare get up yet, not until he can get his anatomy under control.  Rodney doesn’t seem inclined to move just yet either, and they lay facing each other, lost in their own thoughts.

            “I actually slept,” Rodney says after a while.  “I haven’t slept that well since… Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            “Do you think… I mean, I don’t want to impose, you’ve been so amazing and if you don’t want to I would completely understand, it’s just, you were right: I do sleep better knowing you’re here.  But obviously you don’t have to-”

            “I’d be happy to sleep with you again, Rodney,” John said.   _I’d also be happy to fuck you into the mattress, apparently,_ he added silently to himself.

            Rodney pulled a face.

            “OK, I know what you meant, but that sounded really wrong,” he said, and John felt his heart sink.  Of course.  Rodney liked women.  The idea of them sleeping together in any other sense was obviously not appealing to Rodney.  In an effort to keep his pulverized heart off his face John smiled lazily, the same easy smile he used to hide all of his real emotions.  On the other hand, he no longer had a hard on.  Guess that’s one good thing about having his crush shot down before it even managed to get off the ground.

            “Hey, what’s a little bed-sharing between friends?” he asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.   _That’s it, Sheppard,_ he thought, _just pretend it’s a joke.  Don’t let him see how you really feel._

            Rodney chuckled and John felt his heart squeeze a little more.  Oh God, this was torture.  He needed to get out of there now, before he did something stupid like pin Rodney to the bed and…no.  He couldn’t think about that or he’d never get out of there.

            “Well, I’d better get out of here,” he said, throwing off the covers and picking up his shoes.  He didn’t even bother to put them on, just walked barefoot to the door, shoes dangling from his hand.  “But I’ll see you tonight.  Maybe we could watch a movie first or something.  I’ll let you pick, just nothing too science-y.”

            “‘Science-y?’” Rodney repeated.

            “Yeah, science-y.  It’s a word.  Anyway, see you.  Later.”  He was out the door before Rodney could say anything more.

            Another night spent in Rodney’s bed...John didn’t think he could come up with a worse way to spend the evening than sleeping next to the man he’s just realized he’s in love with who will probably never feel the same way.  But Rodney needed him, so he’d just have to deal with it.  He just wouldn’t think about it.  Or him.  Or how much he wanted him.

            “Shit.”

**************************************************

            John tried not to think about Rodney on the way back to his quarters.  He tried not to think about him when he got in the shower.  He really tried not to think about him as he stroked himself in the shower.  Tried not to think about Rodney’s mouth, and how it would feel wrapped around his dick.  Soft and warm, as he swallowed John down.  Tried not to think of those blue eyes looking up at him, of the little noises he would make as John fucked that beautiful mouth…

            He let out a cry that might have been Rodney’s name as he spilled over his hand.  He watched his come mix with the water, swirling down the drain.

            Shit.

            As he got dressed, he resolved not to think about Rodney any more that day.  He needed to put a stop to this before it went any further.  He managed to keep his mind on his itinerary for the day on his way to the mess hall.  He picked up his breakfast and coffee, thoughts firmly on the briefing he had scheduled at 0900.  When he turned, he spotted Rodney at their usual table and felt his heart leap.

            Shit.

            Teyla was sitting with him, and Ronon joined them soon after John sat down.  Rodney seemed more talkative than he had been of late, and he didn’t look quite so pale.  Obviously a good night’s sleep had helped, and John felt a pang of guilt over how selfish he was being.  Rodney was going through a hard time, and he needed John to be there for him, not wrapped up in his own feelings.

            Listening to Rodney babble on about whatever tech he was working on gave John a wistful feeling: he had really missed this.  He spotted Teyla and Ronon shooting smiles at each other from behind their coffee cups, and knew that they were also pleased with Rodney’s loquacious return.

            “Hey,” John spoke up when conversation paused, “Rodney and I were going to watch a movie tonight.  You guys in?”  Maybe it would be easier with Teyla and Ronon as chaperones?

            “Depends on the movie,” Ronon rumbled.

            “Star Wars,” John said at the same time as Rodney said “Star Trek.”

            Rodney rolled his eyes at him.

            “Of course you prefer Star Wars, _Han_.”

            “I have nothing against Trek!  But Ronon’s still never seen Star Wars.”

            “Is that the one with ‘Chewie’?” Ronon asked.  John nodded.

            “All right, all right, Star Wars it is,” Rodney conceded.  “Teyla?”

            “I am also curious to see this movie John speaks of so highly.”

            “We’re not all going to fit on my couch,” Rodney pointed out.

            “Especially not with the way you keep your quarters,” John muttered.

            “Hey!  I’m not _that_ messy.”

            “Anyway, we need to watch on a bigger screen than your laptop.  What about that place where we had Jeannie’s party, with the big monitor over by the east pier?  It was great seeing _Independence Day_ on that big screen.”

            “Where are we going to sit?”

            “I’ll commandeer a couch.  A big one.”

            “‘Commandeer’?  From whom?”

            John shrugged.

            “I have my sources.”

**************************************************

            Rodney spent the rest of the morning in the lab again.  He let himself become engrossed in the work, barely noticing the time until John came to find him for lunch.  He felt a little guilty that John was doing so much for him: checking in on him throughout the day, making a point of seeking him out at mealtimes, sleeping with him…

            He kept trying to feel weird or embarrassed about waking up with John in bed next to him, but it had felt so warm and safe, and John had been so… _John_ about the whole thing.  Easy, unflappable, uncomplicated John.  Rodney knew that there was a lot more going on under the surface when it came to Sheppard, and knew too that he often hid his feelings behind that slow, easy smile, but he was also always reliably _John_.  Rodney had never had much use for fake people, but even with all that John kept behind his defenses, he was never fake.

            And no one had ever worked so hard to get behind Rodney’s own defenses.  No one had ever cared enough to try.  And the funny thing was, once John had made the effort, other people did too, as if John had forged a path, leaving markers along the way for others to follow.  Rodney had never been very close with anyone, including his own sister, the one person who might have stuck with him despite his flaws if Rodney hadn’t pushed her away.  But then he met John Sheppard, and came to Atlantis, and suddenly he found himself with people he considered actual friends.  More than that - what had he called them in his we’re-all-going-to-die recording?  “A kind of family.”  He’d even repaired his relationship with Jeannie, regaining the family he’d lost.

            All because of one John Sheppard.

            And now, here he was, putting Rodney back together; something he hadn’t believed possible after everything he’d suffered.

            Rodney didn’t take John sharing his own traumatic past lightly.  He knew how difficult it was for him to open up like that, and the fact that he’d done it in order to let Rodney know that he wasn’t alone, that there was hope for the future - a future Rodney was just beginning to see, one where he was whole again, maybe even happy - it meant everything to him.

            “I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay him,” Rodney told Dr. Heightmeyer later that afternoon.

            “Why do you think you feel you have to repay him?”

            “Uh, for all the reasons I just said,” Rodney snarked.  He recognized that Heightmeyer was there to help and that she was a professional who seemed to know what she was doing, but some days he couldn’t help but hate her a little.  Or maybe he just hated the process, the whole “And how does that make you feel?” of it all.

            “You think that because he’s been a good friend to you, you have to give him something in return?”

            “I should do _something_.  He saved my life, literally, and he continues to save it metaphorically, on a daily basis.  So yeah, I think I owe the guy.”

            “And why do you feel your own friendship isn’t enough?”

            Rodney didn’t answer.

            “As far as I know, you’ve saved his life several times in the past.  Do you feel an imbalance there?  Has he saved you more than you’ve saved him?  Are you keeping score?”

            “I… no.  I don’t know.”

            “So, why do you feel your friendship is inadequate repayment for his?”

            “Because I’m… I’m me.”

            “And?”

            “And I’m difficult!” Rodney shouted.  “I’m arrogant and petty and - and bad with people.  And John deserves better.  He deserves a real friend.”

            “And you think your personal failings means you can’t be a real friend to him?”

            “No, I mean… I’m his friend, but I’m not… I’m not Ronon.”

            “You think Ronon is a better friend?”

            “I don’t know.  Can we talk about something else?  Aren’t we supposed to be working through my trauma?  What does any of this have to do with me being tortured?”

            “You obviously thought it was important enough to bring it up.  I want to know why you think you’re unworthy of John’s friendship.”

            “I don’t think I’m unworthy,” Rodney said indignantly.

            “Don’t you?”

            Rodney opened his mouth to argue, then closed it.

            “Why did you refuse to fix the Ancient device?”

            “What?” Rodney stared at her, confused by this sudden turn.

            “When Ataan asked you to fix the device, you refused.  He tortured you, and you still refused.  Why?”

            “It would have killed thousands.  Maybe hundreds of thousands.  I didn’t want that on my conscious.”

            “Why?”

            “Why didn’t I want to be responsible for the genocide of an entire people?”

            “You wouldn’t have been responsible.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “You wouldn’t have been responsible.  Were you going to use the weapon?”

            “Of course not.”

            “Who was?”

            “Ataan - but it doesn’t matter, if I was the one who fixed it-”

            “Then you would have been responsible for fixing a piece of broken machinery.”

            Rodney gaped at her.  She stared back at him steadily.

            “Semantics,” Rodney said finally.  “I knew what the weapon was capable of, and I knew how they intended to use it.  I also knew that none of their scientists were smart enough to fix it.  I was.  It was my responsibility not to help them.  Whether I pushed the button or not is irrelevant.  You think Oppenheimer’s hands are clean just because he didn’t personally drop the bomb?”

            “You’re missing the point, Rodney.”

            “Well then, what is the point?”

            “What happened when Kolya and his men took over Atlantis?”

            Once again, Rodney was thrown by the seeming change in subject.

            “What?”

            “They took you and Dr. Weir hostage and Kolya forced you to tell him the plan to save the city.”

            “Yes.”

            “And what happened?” Heightmeyer pressed.

            “He… John stopped him.  He saved us.”

            “Before that.  What happened?”

            “Kolya… he forced us to fix the grounding station.”

            “Before that.”

            “ELIZABETH ALMOST DIED!  IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR?  I told Kolya everything he wanted to know and Elizabeth almost died!”  Rodney was standing now, and breathing like he’d just run a marathon.  “Three cuts with a knife and I gave up everything.”  He pushed up his sleeve to reveal three parallel scars across his right forearm.  They were much fainter than his other scars, almost erased with time.

            “But she didn’t die.  You saved her.  When Kolya wanted to kill her, you convinced him he still needed her.”

            “If I’d just kept my mouth shut I wouldn’t have had to save her.”

            “You couldn’t have known that.  The information you had at the time told you that the worst that would happen was losing Atlantis to Kolya.  But it had already been evacuated.  As far as you knew, no one would die as a result of you telling Kolya the plan to save the city.”

            “Maybe.”

            “So why do you think you deserved to be punished?”

            There was a long pause while Rodney just looked at her.

            “No,” he said, retaking his seat.

            “‘No’ what?”

            “No, it’s not that simple.  I didn’t let them torture me because I felt guilty, or because I thought I deserved it.  I let them torture me because if I didn’t, people would die.”

            “‘Let them’?  That’s interesting.”

            Rodney suppressed a scream.

            “Why?” he asked between clenched teeth.

            “It implies that you had some measure of control.  That you had a choice in whether or not they tortured you.”

            “I did.”

            Heightmeyer raised her eyebrows and gestured for him to elaborate.

            “I could have fixed the damn machine.”

            “What do you think they would have done after you fixed the machine?”

            “Oh I don’t know, use it to kill a bunch of people!”

            “I meant to you.  If you had fixed the machine, and they used it to wipe out their enemies, what would have happened to you?”

            “I-” Rodney stopped, unsure.

            “That was the point, wasn’t it?” she continued.  “To force you to identify and repair something that would end the war?  Do you think they would have let you go?”

            “Not likely,” he muttered.

            “So either they would have kept you and continued to use you in the labs, or-?”

            “Or they would have killed me.”

            “Seems to me, you had very little control.  Your choices were a lifetime of forced labor or death.”

            Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose.

            “OK, can you stop leading me and just tell me what the point is, already?”

            “Your fate, your life, was not under your control.  But something else was.  Come on, Rodney, you’re almost there; what was under your control?”

            “I couldn’t control what happened to me,” Rodney said slowly, “but I could control what happened to them, the Kyotons.  I couldn’t save myself, but I could save them.”

            “Yes.  And you did.  You chose to save them.”

            “So?  I still don’t see the point.  I saved them because…what?  Because the last time I was tortured I gave in, and I felt guilty about it?  Anyone else in my place would have done the same thing.  I don’t think anyone could live with genocide on their conscious.  At least, no one with any kind of moral compass.  I didn’t do anything extraordinary.”

            “Rodney, they most likely would have killed you after you fixed the weapon.  Your guilt would have been very short-lived.  I think a lot of people would have made the other choice.  A lot of people would have given up a lot sooner than you did.  And even when you reached your breaking point, you still didn't give up.  You kept fighting, you found a way out, you found a way to survive.  You chose to survive.  What you did?  The choices you made?  It _was_ extraordinary.  You were put in an impossible situation and you came out the other side of it having saved hundreds of thousands of complete strangers.  You are brave.  You are compassionate.  You are a survivor.  And you are absolutely worthy of friendship and care and love.  I think John Sheppard is lucky to count you among his closest friends, and I think if you asked him, he’d say the same.”

            Rodney wiped the tears from his cheeks and tried to swallow around the burning in his throat.  Heightmeyer handed him a box of tissues and leaned forward to pat his knee comfortingly.

            “Thank you,” he said once he could speak again.  She smiled, and he thought her eyes looked a little watery as well.

**************************************************

            The emotional session had taken a lot out of him and he considered cancelling on movie night.  But John was talking excitedly about the setup in the ‘movie room’ at dinner, and how great it would be to watch Star Wars on the big monitor, and Rodney didn’t really have the heart to tell him he just wanted to go to bed.

            So the four of them made their way over together after dinner, loaded with snacks (Teyla had, of course, insisted on popcorn) and Rodney got to work connecting a laptop to the monitor.  John had managed to procure a large couch, and had moved some other random equipment out of the way to make room for it.  They all settled in and started the movie.  Rodney made it as far as Mos Eisley cantina before he fell asleep.


	10. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected kiss causes problems. Rodney examines his feelings for John.

            John had noticed Rodney’s head drooping slowly downwards, and wasn’t surprised when he finally gave in.  He carefully put an arm around him and pulled him to his chest.  Rodney settled against him like he belonged there.

            When he looked up, he found Teyla and Ronon looking at them curiously.  He gave them a lopsided smile and a small shrug.  They exchanged a brief look, then turned their attention back to the movie.

            When it was over, John gently roused him.  He hated to wake Rodney, but didn’t think he would appreciate being carried like a child back to his quarters.

            Rodney stumbled, half-asleep and leaning on John the whole way there.

            When they reached his quarters, Rodney dropped onto the bed fully clothed.  After a moment’s hesitation, John started to unlace Rodney’s boots.  He pulled them off, then gently turned Rodney onto his back and started unzipping his jacket.

            “What ‘r you doing?” Rodney slurred and John’s hands froze.

            “I thought you’d be more comfortable with fewer clothes on,” he replied.  Rodney’s face scrunched up in confusion.  His eyes opened and seemed to take in where they were.

            “Oh,” he said, sitting up and trying to unzip his jacket clumsily.  John pushed his hands away gently and did it for him.  Rodney let him manhandle him out of the jacket and then John started on his pants.

            “Always knew you were trying to get into my pants, Sheppard,” he said with a sleepy smile.  John’s heart seized.  It was too much.  Seeing Rodney like this, half-asleep and so trusting, vulnerable, making jokes…  For a moment, he was the old Rodney again, just like when John used to rouse him after he fell asleep on his laptop in the lab.

            Without thinking, John leaned forward and kissed him.  Just the softest brush of lips, but there was no mistaking his intention.  He pulled back to find Rodney’s eyes wide with shock, all trace of sleepiness gone now.

            “What…? Did you just kiss me?”

            John’s heart was pounding.  He’d really done it now.  He’d kissed him, and there was no taking it back.

            “Yes,” he said, but it came out like a question.

            “Why?” Rodney asked.

            “Um…” John really wasn’t sure how to answer that.  It wasn’t the question he’d been expecting.  “I...I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have.  I… I didn’t mean to take advantage, I just…” John was backing away now.  Rodney didn’t look angry or upset, he just looked confused.  “I’m really sorry,” John said, then stepped through the door.

**************************************************

            “He kissed me,” Rodney said as soon as Dr. Heightmeyer walked through the door to her office.  She was in lounge pants and a hoody.  Rodney’s emergency call had obviously either roused her from sleep or she had just been going to bed.  To her credit, she took in Rodney’s own half-dressed state as well as his frantic pacing of her office with barely a raised eyebrow, and merely took her seat calmly.

            “Who kissed you?”

            “John.”

            “Colonel Sheppard?”

            “Yes.  Oh god!” Rodney stopped pacing, “This is confidential, right?  I mean, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is still a real thing, and I wouldn’t want-”

            “Anything you tell me is private,” she reassured him.  “What happened after he kissed you?”

            “I don’t know.  I think he freaked out.  He started babbling about not wanting to take advantage, and then he practically ran out of my quarters.”

            “So he just kissed you and left?  I’m going to need more here; rewind Rodney.  What happened before he kissed you?”

            “He walked me back to my quarters.  We were watching a movie with Teyla and Ronon, and I fell asleep.  So John was helping me back to my quarters and then he started undressing me-”

            “He started undressing you?”

            “No, I mean, not like that.  I was so tired I just lay down fully clothed, so John was trying to help.  He took off my boots and my jacket, and then he was taking my pants off, and I made some stupid joke and he looked at me with this weird expression.  And then he kissed me.”

            “Do you think he has feelings for you?”

            “I-” Rodney cut off, staring into the distance but not really seeing anything.  “Well, before tonight I would have said ‘no’ but-”

            “And now?”

            “I don’t know.”  Rodney resumed pacing.  “This is crazy.  Why now?  Of all times, why does he choose now to do this to me?”

            “No one can control how they feel about someone.  I don’t think he did this to hurt you.”

            “No, no, of course he didn’t.  That’s not what I...  I’m just confused.”

            “Do you have feelings for him?”

            “Sure, I mean, I care about him.  He’s my best friend.  And he’s really been there for me.”

            “I meant, do you have romantic feelings for him?”

            “I-” Rodney stopped pacing again.  Did he feel that way about John?  He’d never really thought about it before.  He knew he found John attractive, but so did anyone with eyes.  Rodney had always known he liked both men and women, but he’d never pursued a relationship with a man before.  He’d never even kissed a man before tonight.  He’d always figured he had enough trouble with getting women to like him, he couldn’t imagine trying to add the extra step of finding out whether a guy was into other guys first.  Of course, he was notoriously bad at recognizing when _anyone_ was interested in him.  Had John been flirting this whole time and he’d just never picked up on it?

            He certainly loved spending time with John.  They bickered and sniped at each other, but it was always friendly, nothing with too hard an edge.  He felt safe with John, in a way that was rare for him these days when he hardly ever felt safe.  He trusted John.  And John was smart.  He liked to pretend he wasn’t, but he was.  And he could also be kind of a dork, when he wasn’t being all cool and suave and handsome and brave…

            “I’m an idiot,” Rodney said faintly.  He caught the smile on Heightmeyer's face before she ducked her head in an effort to hide it.  “Did you know?" he demanded.  "Did you know that I was totally, stupidly in love with my best friend?”

            “I had an inkling.”

            “How?  How have I been so stupidly unaware?  How did you know?”

            “You talk about him a lot, Rodney.  It’s obvious he’s a very important part of your life.  I wasn’t completely sure it was romantic love, but I suspected.”

            “But how?  Was it something I said?”

            “Not so much what you said, but when you talk about him you get this sort of…look.  Like there’s no one else in the world you’d rather spend time with.  And I watched the two of you interacting in the mess hall once.  Your team is a tight-knit group, there’s no question, but you and Sheppard… you just seem to have a closer bond.  The way you anticipate each other, the way you lean into each other’s space.  You have a natural rhythm with each other, like you exist on the same frequency.”

            Rodney sat down, gaping at her.

            “And you didn’t think to mention this to me?”

            “It’s not my job to tell you how you feel, Rodney.”

            “OK, but a little heads-up would have been nice!”

            “Are you going to talk to John?”

            Rodney swallowed.  Right, talk to John.  That was probably something he should do.  Shit.

            “I guess I have to.”  He looked at her like he was hoping she would say ‘no’.  She stared back steadily but didn’t offer anything more.  “Yeah, yeah, OK.  I’ll talk to him.  You think I should do it now?”  Heightmeyer blinked at him.  “Right.  No time like the present.  OK.  Here I go.”  He stood to leave, turned back at the door.  “Um, thank you.  I know I haven’t been the easiest patient, and you’ve been really… What I mean to say-”

            “You’re welcome, Rodney.  Stop by tomorrow afternoon, let me know how it all turns out.”

            “Will do.  Wish me luck?”

            “You don’t need it, but good luck.”

**************************************************

            John was moving restlessly around his quarters.  He would sit on his bed, then jump up again seconds later to open his laptop.  He settled in his desk chair, and tried to concentrate on work.  After a few minutes of staring at the screen he closed his laptop.  He put his head in his hands.

            Why did he do that?

            Why did he _kiss_ him?

            WHAT THE HELL HAD HE BEEN THINKING?

            John went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face.  He stared at himself in the mirror, watching the drops join and form rivulets running down his cheeks.  He grabbed a towel and pressed it to his eyes hard enough he saw stars.

            He’d ruined it.

            A perfectly good friendship, and he’d lost it.

            Rodney would never look at him the same way.

            He should have been happy with what he got, why had he tried to make it something more?

            He walked back out into the middle of his quarters and just stood there, lost and unsure.  He’d never be able to sleep, not with all the noise in his brain.  He needed quiet.  He needed to stop thinking.

**************************************************

            John didn’t answer the door when Rodney rang the chime to his quarters.  He waited, rang again, and waited some more. 

            Maybe John was asleep?

            Rodney knew he was a light sleeper, there was no way John hadn’t heard the chime.  Which either meant John was pretending to be asleep, or he wasn’t in his quarters.  Rodney knocked softly.

            “John?  Are you in there?  I’d really like to talk.”  He waited.  “John?” he called while knocking again, a little more firmly.  There was still no answer.  He didn’t think John would ignore him like this, so he had to assume John wasn’t in his quarters.  Where was he?

            _Probably freaking out somewhere,_ Rodney thought.   _OK, I can do this.  Where would John go if he was upset?  Gym?  He does like to work out his problems on a punching bag occasionally…_  It was as good a place as any to start, so Rodney headed to gym 3, which was one of the smaller, more private gyms.  It was empty.  Wondering if he should check the other gyms, Rodney hit his head with annoyance.

            _I am really pushing the bar on stupid tonight,_ he thought as he made his way to a monitor and pulled up the life signs detector.  There were a handful of signs in the control tower (the night shift ready in case there was an emergency gate-in), a few in the mess hall (late shift coffee breaks or midnight snackers) and then a few individual signs scattered throughout.  He studied the individual signs: one was in a science lab, one was in what they called ‘the library’, one was out on John’s favorite pier...

            _That has to be him._

 **************************************************

            Rodney spotted John sitting with his legs dangling over the edge from some distance away.  He was mostly in shadow - the majority of the lights in Atlantis dimmed or dark, and a cloudy sky kept the moons from shining - but Rodney would know John’s figure anywhere.  There was no mistaking that ridiculous hair.

            As he got closer, he realized that John had a bottle of something he was drinking, and that he was swaying slightly.  It made Rodney nervous, given how easy it would be for him to fall off the edge and into the icy water.

            “Hey buddy,” he said as he approached.  John startled and Rodney jumped forward to steady him.  “Whoa, easy.  Maybe we should move back a little.”

            John scrambled unsteadily to his feet.

            “Rodney, what’re you… what’re you doing?  How’d’you find me?”  John’s words ran together, slurring slightly, but he didn’t seem as impaired as Rodney had feared.

            “I cheated,” Rodney said with a shrug.  John frowned at him.  “I checked the life signs detector and deduced that this one belonged to you,” he elaborated.

            “Oh,” John said, staring fixedly at Rodney’s feet.  “Good thinking.”

            They were silent for a while, John swaying and fidgeting while Rodney shuffled his feet.

            “Can we sit and talk?” Rodney asked finally.  “Maybe not so close to the edge?”

            They settled down and John took another drink from the bottle.  Rodney noticed that it was whiskey and about 2/3rds full.

            “Talk,” said John.  Rodney wasn’t sure where to start, and took a moment to organize his thoughts.

            “So...you kissed me.”

            John nodded like his head weighed more than usual.  Rodney really wished he was sober for this, and was tempted to postpone until tomorrow, but didn’t want to lose his nerve.  Maybe it would help if Rodney was also less-than-sober; put them on even-footing.

            “Can I have some of that?” he gestured to the bottle.  John grunted and handed it over.  The liquor burned on the way down and Rodney coughed.  He’d never been much of a drinker, it wouldn’t take much to get him buzzed.  He took another drink, made a face, but managed not to cough.

            “I talked to Heightmeyer,” he said, passing the bottle back.  John froze in the act of taking it.

            “You did?”

            “Don’t worry, it’s all confidential, she can’t reveal anything I say.”

            John nodded and took another drink.

            “What did she say?”

            “She asked me if I thought you had feelings for me.”

            John’s face might as well have been made of stone for all Rodney could read of it.

            “I told her I hadn’t until tonight.”

            John’s hand tightened around the bottle, a line of tension in his jaw.  Rodney sighed.  This wasn’t getting any easier.

            “Then she asked me if I had feelings for you.”

            John was so still Rodney thought he might have stopped breathing.  Rodney drew the bottle out of his hand and set it out of reach, then took John’s now-empty hand in his own.  John’s eyes were fixed on their joined hands, his breath suddenly loud in the near-silence.

            “I realized, I’ve been an idiot.”  

            John made a noise of protest and Rodney squeezed his hand.

            “No, it’s true.  Even I, Dr. Rodney McKay, genius-extraordinaire, can be an idiot when it comes to other people.  John, you have been the best thing to happen to me since...since I can’t remember when.  I never… I’ve never been close...to anyone.  I graduated high school at 16.  Got my first degree at 19.  I’ve always been the outsider, the immature know-it-all who can’t be bothered to learn anyone’s name.  Hell,” Rodney laughed, “my own mother once told me I was a difficult person to love.”

            John’s head snapped up, his fingers tightening around Rodney’s.

            “You’re not,” he said, staring into Rodney’s eyes with an intensity that made Rodney’s breath hitch in his chest.  “Not difficult.  Not at all.  You’re - you are - you are so _easy_ , it’s...I can’t even-”

            “You think I’m easy?” Rodney said with a tilt of an eyebrow.

            John laughed, breaking the tension between them.

            Then he caught Rodney’s eye and froze.  The easy smile slid off his face.

            “Rodney…” he began.

            “Look,” Rodney interrupted, “I know what you’re going to say: ‘we’re teammates - best friends - and we shouldn’t be falling in love with each other.’  Not to mention all the stupid shit I’m currently working through.  But, this?” he shook their clasped hands for emphasis, “This is worth fighting for.  This is worth upsetting the way things are done.  I want this.  I want you.  And I think I deserve something good.”

            “How d’you know I’ll be good for you?”

            “You already have been.  Even before… everything.  You’re the first person who ever bothered to get to know me - the real me, behind all the arrogance and defensive bullshit.  I’ve been pushing people away since I was a kid, and, until you, no one ever pushed back.”

            “You know we couldn’t tell anyone, right?  Don’t Ask Don’t Tell…”

            Rodney nodded.

            “I know.”

            “And you’re okay with that?”

            “Yes.  What about Teyla and Ronon, though?  They won’t care about some stupid Earth law, and they’re probably going to notice that something has changed between us.”

            “Yeah, ok, we can tell them.”

            “And Carson isn’t military, and he’s my friend, he wouldn’t betray my confidence.”

            “OK, fine, you can tell Carson.”

            “For that matter, Elizabeth isn’t military either, I doubt she would care-”

            “Rodney!  She’s the head of the whole Atlantis expedition and I’m the military commander.”

            “Right.  OK, we won’t tell Elizabeth.  I mean, she’s pretty smart, she’ll probably figure it out…” John glared at him, “but yeah, no, we shouldn’t tell her.”

            “Are you sure this is what you want?” John asked.  “If we cross this line, we can’t go back.”

            “I’m pretty sure you already crossed that line when you kissed me,” Rodney smirked.  John glared at him again.  “OK, OK!  Geez.”

            “This is serious, Rodney.”

            “I know,” Rodney squeezed his hand, “I’m taking it seriously, I promise.  I want this.”

            They stared into each other’s eyes for a long time, and it felt different now.  There was a heat between them, an anticipation building in Rodney’s stomach.  And then he leaned forward and pressed his lips against John’s almost exactly as John had done to him earlier.  He pulled back, trying to read in John’s eyes what he was thinking.

            John reached for him and they kissed again.  This time he opened his mouth and let John’s tongue slide next to his.  They kissed until Rodney was gasping, his heart pounding in his chest.  John pulled back, and he was also breathing heavy.

            “We shouldn’t do this here,” John said.

            Rodney nodded, and they helped each other up, John grabbing the whiskey and putting the top back on.  They were both swaying slightly because of the alcohol, but they helped each other walk back along the pier and managed to get to Rodney’s quarters without too much trouble.

            As soon as they were inside with the door closed, John grabbed Rodney and kissed him again.  He backed him against the wall and leaned into him, his thigh pressing against Rodney’s throbbing erection.  Rodney moaned into John’s mouth.

            “Wait, wait,” Rodney said breathlessly.  John pulled back at once.

            “What?  What is it?  Are you OK?  Is this too fast?”

            Rodney shook his head, trying to form words.

            “No I’m good - very good - I just…  I’ve never… uh, I mean, with a guy…”

            John looked startled.

            “Never?” he asked, incredulously.

            “Um, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when it comes to romance, I’m not exactly Casanova.  Dating women was hard enough for me.  There were one or two guys I thought I might… but I never got up the courage to even find out if they felt the same.”

            “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m an expert or anything, but I’ve been with guys before.  Usually just a one-night-stand kind of thing.”

            “Nothing more?”

            “Well, there was this one guy in high school.  We were on the football team together, and we used to sneak around and make out under the bleachers.”

            “Of course you did,” Rodney rolled his eyes.

            “Then one night, my dad caught us.  He didn’t say anything, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes.  The next day he told me he was going to ship me off to some fancy boarding school.  I told him I’d rather go to military school.  He told me I needed to think about my future, about what kind of man I was going to be.  I told him I already knew what kind of man I was going to be: I was going to be a pilot.  That’s when he got really angry, and told me the Air Force doesn’t take faggots.”

            Rodney gasped.

            “John, I’m so sorry.”

            John shrugged.

            “We didn’t really talk much after that.  I didn’t go to the boarding school, and my father never brought it up again.  I was turning 17 in two months, so I spent that time researching Air Force Academy requirements, and made sure I had everything I needed to get in.  The day after my birthday, I left home, and went straight into the academy.  Obviously, after that I wasn’t able to have any relationships with guys.  I couldn’t risk getting kicked out.  As I said, I had a few hook-ups over the years, but never anything serious.”

            “So… I guess this will be a kind of first for both of us?” Rodney asked.

            “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Rodney.  We can take things slow.  I don’t want to mess this up.”  John cupped the side of Rodney’s face with one hand.  Rodney leaned into the touch, then pulled John to him.  They kissed again, but slower than before, with less intensity.

            Eventually, they found themselves near the bed and John stumbled and fell onto it, pulling Rodney down with him.  They laughed as they attempted to sort themselves out.

            “We’re not sober enough to be doing this, right now,” John said, once he had extricated himself from the confusing tangle of limbs.

            “You’re probably right.  Besides, I’m exhausted.”  Rodney yawned as if to prove his point.  “Will you stay, though?  I sleep better with you beside me.”

            John smiled and kissed him.

            “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that the number of chapters has grown from 10 to 12. I realized that some of the chapters were far too long, so I cut them in half. They are still long, meaty chapters, but I think the cuts make them flow better, story-wise.


	11. Return to Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney returns to full active duty and goes on a mission with his team. John and Rodney take things slow.

            Rodney felt incredibly light the next day, like whatever had been pressing down on him had lifted at last.  He’d slept through the night in John’s arms without a single nightmare, and for the first time in a long time, he felt happy.

            Obviously, they couldn’t act any differently when they were around other people, but they had always been close, so it was nothing for John to put a hand on Rodney’s shoulder, or lean into him a little.  On the outside, nothing had changed, but Rodney felt the difference.  When John touched him now, there was electricity in it.

            They spent the next few weeks making out like teenagers in one or the other’s quarters and falling asleep in each other’s arms.  John wanted to take things slow even though Rodney insisted he was fine.  It finally occurred to him that maybe John was the one who needed to go slow, so he let him set the pace and didn’t push for more.

            Sleeping through the night helped immensely, and Rodney found himself once more wishing for more to do with his increased energy.  He spent most of his days in the lab now, though he still sparred with Ronon almost every afternoon, but it wasn’t enough.

            When he mentioned this to Heightmeyer she asked if he thought he was ready to rejoin his team and start going off-world again.

            “I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully.  “I think I might be.”

            “What’s making you hesitate?”

            “Well… our dynamic has changed, now that John and I…  I’m not sure how that will affect the team.”

            “Have you told Ronon and Teyla about the change in your relationship?”

            “Not yet,” Rodney said sheepishly.  “It’s been nice… having this to ourselves, you know?”

            “You think sharing it with your friends will change the relationship?”

            “Maybe.  Is that stupid?”

            “No, it’s not stupid.  Right now your relationship is private - it’s yours.  There can be something very safe about that feeling.  But telling your friends won’t diminish how you feel about each other.  As for you rejoining the team, I have no problem clearing you for duty, but I do think you need to tell Teyla and Ronon before you do.  You’re right to worry that this could alter the team dynamic, and they deserve to know that going in.  You’re putting your lives in each other’s hands, trust and honesty are extremely important.”

**************************************************

            Telling Teyla and Ronon was both easier and harder than Rodney thought it would be.  Getting the actual words out was hard, as was explaining to them why they had to keep the relationship a secret, but they were both immediately accepting and supportive.

            Two men in Ronon’s unit had been in a relationship with each other.  Apparently, it was fairly common in Sateda, and he was surprised that Earth had laws against such unions.

            Teyla said that it was less common among the Athosians, simply because the bearing of children to replace those culled by the Wraith was given high priority among her people.  Often, a kind of temporary marriage contract would be arranged where an agreed upon number of children would be born and then the marriage dissolved.  The children were then raised by a group usually consisting of the mother and father and their chosen partners.

            Neither of them were worried about it affecting them as a team, and, in fact, Ronon had even suspected there was something more between them long before.

            With that out of the way, Rodney went to see Elizabeth to submit his official request to resume his full duties.  She was thrilled.  Apparently, John had been complaining about Dr. Parker non-stop lately, and she was happy to be able to reassign him.

            And so it was that Rodney found himself in the gate room, geared up and ready to go to M4X-P37.  He nervously checked and rechecked his sidearm until John put a hand on his shoulder.  Rodney looked up at that unflappable smile, and saw the reassurance in his eyes.

            “Just a routine exploration, Rodney.  You’ll be fine.”

            Rodney swallowed and stilled his fidgeting fingers.

            “I know,” he said, but he didn’t sound sure.

            “We’ll be by your side the whole time,” Ronon said, clapping a hand on Rodney’s other shoulder.  “In fact, I’m never letting you out of my sight off-world ever again.”

            Rodney winced.

            “It wasn’t your fault,” he said quietly.  Ronon shrugged.

            “I know.  But I mean it, you’re not to leave my sight.”

            “Let’s all just relax,” John said, “We all have each other’s backs out there, right?  We’re just going to pop over, have a look around the planet and leave.  No biggie.”

            Despite his words, Rodney could see the tension in John’s jaw, could feel the protectiveness through his hand still on his shoulder.  Rodney knew going through the gate for the first time since he’d been back would be difficult for him - he hadn’t realized that it would be so difficult for his teammates.

            _I guess we’re all dealing with trauma of some kind or other,_ he thought as he noticed how unusually quiet Teyla was being.  She smiled at him when she saw him looking, but it was a little strained, not as open as her usual smile.

            Just before he stepped through the Stargate, Rodney had this wild thought that the Sarrans would be waiting for him on the other side.  When he re-materialized on M4X-P37, he clutched his chest and gasped, eyes wide and looking frantically all around for the hands he was sure were reaching out to grab him and haul him back to his cell.

            “Rodney?  You alright?” John said, taking a cautious step toward him.  Rodney looked at John and forced himself to stop panicking.  There were no hands dragging him away, just his team looking worriedly at him.

            Rodney was still gasping for breath, unable to speak just yet, but he nodded in answer to John’s query.

            “Rodney?” John said again.

            “Yes,” Rodney forced out, “‘M okay.  Just - need a sec.”  He struggled to get his breathing under control, drawing on the meditation practices Teyla had taught him.

            “Sorry,” he said after a few deep breaths, “I had a… a moment, there.  But I’m alright now.”

            “Are you sure?” John asked.  “We can turn around and go home.  You don’t have to prove anything to us.”

            “No, no I’m fine.  Really.  It was just a bad moment, but I’m alright now.”

            “You’re sure?”

            “I’m sure.”

            John took a long measured look at him before nodding once.

            “OK then, let’s move out, kids.”

 

            The rest of the mission was unremarkable.  They found evidence of some civilization, but it had obviously either died out or moved on long ago.  Rodney didn’t have any more bad spells, and the team fell into their natural rhythm with ease.

            Life for Rodney was finally returning to normal, with the one exception that he and John were making out and groping each other at every opportunity.

            He cut his sessions with Heightmeyer back to once every two weeks instead of every week, and went on several more missions with his team (including one which involved an encounter with the Wraith), and didn’t fall completely to pieces.

            He and John were still taking things slow, but Rodney was in no rush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are, almost to the end. Next chapter is full of smut, as promised. I hope it's worth the wait, I've read a lot of smut, but written very little so we'll see how it goes. Regardless, thanks for sticking with me this far!


	12. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Rodney take their relationship to the next level.

            John was laying half on top of Rodney, kissing him lazily.  They were on Rodney’s bed, both clad in nothing but their boxers.  John licked Rodney’s collarbone, grazing it lightly with his teeth.  Rodney’s breath hitched and John smiled.  He loved making Rodney squirm.  He continued kissing down his chest, his tongue tracing the scars scattered there.  A particularly horrible burn scar on his stomach made John pause.  He’d seen nearly all of Rodney now - had catalogued the many scars several times over.  He remembered how Rodney had tried to hide them the first time John saw him with his shirt off.

            “They’re ugly,” Rodney had said.

            “They’re a part of you,” John had replied.  “Nothing about you could ever be ugly to me.”

            He pressed a gentle kiss to the burn scar before looking up at Rodney.  His hands were hovering at the waistband of his boxers, his eyes asking permission.  Rodney swallowed and nodded.  John drew his boxers off, Rodney lifting up to help.

            He was bigger than John expected, his cock flushed and hard.  There was another burn scar on his inner thigh, uncomfortably close to his groin and John almost saw red thinking about the circumstances that put it there.  Rodney would have had to be naked for them to hurt him there, and it made John pause.  He’d never asked if they had hurt Rodney in other ways…

            “They didn’t rape me,” Rodney said, correctly guessing the reason for John’s hesitation.  “Everything they did… they didn’t do that.”

            John nodded and pressed a kiss to the scar.  Then he took Rodney in his hand, making him gasp again, and kissed the tip.

            “Tease,” Rodney said breathlessly.  John grinned at him before swallowing him down.  Rodney cried out and his hips jerked upwards.  John pressed down more firmly on his hips and swallowed him again.  He worked Rodney over, swallowing as much of him as he could one second, then backing off to lightly suck just the head.  Rodney moaned and twitched, and wound his fingers through John’s hair, urging him to go faster, to take him deeper.  But John was determined to set the pace, and he didn’t want this to be over yet.  He pulled off with a wet pop and Rodney groaned.  He crawled back up Rodney’s body and kissed him.

            “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered in his ear.  Rodney stopped breathing for a moment.

            “Really?” he asked, and John nodded.

            “Absolutely,” John said as he got up to get the lube out of his jacket pocket.  “As you can see, I came prepared,” he said, shaking the bottle for emphasis.  Rodney swallowed hard.

            “You… You’ll have to show me, I don’t want to hurt you.”

            John pulled his boxers down and stepped out of them.  Rodney stared at him and licked his lips.

            “You are so good-looking, it’s unfair,” he said and John smiled.  He crawled back onto the bed and kissed Rodney again.  Then he lay back and spread his legs.  Rodney moved so he could watch as John poured lube on his fingers and breached himself with one digit.  Rodney watched John fuck himself on his finger for a little while, opening himself up.  He liked the way Rodney watched him.  He added a second finger, groaning at the slight burn as he was stretched.

            “Can I…?” Rodney asked.  John removed his fingers and reached for the lube again, pouring some onto Rodney’s fingers.  Cautiously, Rodney inserted one finger, going slow.  John groaned again.  His own fingers had felt good, but there was something about having Rodney inside him that lit him up.

            “More,” he moaned and Rodney added a second finger.  “That’s good, that’s so good, Rodney.  Now twist them - yes… oh god yes.”  He was moaning continuously now as Rodney twisted and scissored his fingers, stretching him open.  Then Rodney crooked his fingers in just the right spot and John shouted “Oh, fuck!”

            Rodney grinned wildly and did it again.

            “FUCK!  How did you - ?”

            “I may have done some research,” Rodney said, and that might be the hottest thing John had ever heard.  Rodney, the consummate scientist, had researched how to have good sex with a man.

            “So you were playing me?” John panted.  “When you said all that about ‘you’ll have to show me how’?”

            “Of course not.  I _did_ want you to show me.”

            “Wanted me to show you, or wanted me to put on a show?” John asked, his breath hitching as Rodney continued to slide his fingers in and out.

            “Maybe a little of both.”

            Rodney added a third finger and John sucked in his breath.

            “Too fast?” Rodney asked, stilling.  John shook his head.

            “No, I’m good, keep going.”  Rodney continued to slide his fingers in and out, every once in a while hitting that spot that sent electricity through him.  So preoccupied with the feeling of Rodney inside him, he didn’t notice Rodney slick up his other hand until he gripped John’s cock and slid up the shaft.  John cried out again, swearing profusely.  Rodney smirked and John didn’t know if he wanted to kiss him or punch him in that moment.

            “If you don’t fuck me right now I’m never going to speak to you again,” he panted.  Rodney’s grin grew wider, but he pulled his fingers out and began slicking his cock.  John rearranged himself, lying back with a pillow beneath his hips, and grabbed his knees to spread himself.

            Rodney stared at him like his brain was malfunctioning.

            “Rodney,” John said, “I’m not kidding.”

            Rodney shook himself like he was coming back online and moved to line himself up with John’s entrance.  John felt the head of Rodney’s penis tease his hole and was about to tell him to get moving already when Rodney pressed forward.  It was a tight fit, even with the preparation, and John panted and bore down and tried to relax.  At last, the head popped through the ring of muscle and Rodney paused.  John was slick with sweat, his cock so hard he could have used it to hammer nails.

            “Please…” he moaned.  Rodney inched forward slowly, driving John mad.  At last, he felt Rodney’s balls resting against his ass and knew he was fully inside him.  He felt impossibly full, stretched just to the point of pain.  He wanted to urge Rodney to move, but knew that he wasn’t ready yet, that he needed to give himself time to adjust.  It had been a long time since he’d last done this, and he’d been drunk then, and with a smaller partner.  Right now he thought he could feel every vein on Rodney’s cock and his hole was throbbing with his heart beat.  Rodney took his shaft in hand once more, sliding up over the head then back down over and over.  He kept the pressure light, just enough to get him fully hard again as he had softened a little with the pain of Rodney taking him fully.  As Rodney fisted his cock, he felt himself relax that last little bit, and the burning eased.

            “Move,” he breathed.

            “You sure?” Rodney asked, his voice sounded strained.  John nodded.  Rodney leaned over to kiss him, and then he started to move.  Small, short strokes at first, but then longer, working himself in and out of John’s ass.  The slide and pressure was building something inside John, and then Rodney shifted the angle just slightly and drove straight into that spot again and John shouted more profanities.  He did it again and John’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head.

            And then Rodney was moving in earnest, pounding in and out like a piston, hitting the sweet spot over and over while increasing the pressure as he stroked John’s cock until John thought he was going to overload with pleasure.

            “Fuck,” he groaned, “I’m going to… oh fuck. Rodney!” John came with a shout, his come landing on his chest and stomach.  Rodney’s rhythm faltered and he pushed into John once, twice, and then stilled inside him, shuddering with his own release before collapsing onto him.

            They lay, panting, Rodney still seated inside John’s twitching hole.  John felt boneless.  He threw an arm around Rodney, happy to let him recover, not wanting him to move yet.

            When their breathing had slowed, Rodney pushed up off of John, and gently slid out of him.  John’s hole gave one more throb, like it missed Rodney’s cock.

            Rodney flopped over onto his back next to John.

            “We’re going to need a shower,” said John.

***************************************************

            Later, after they had cleaned up, they lay together, John pressed up against Rodney’s back, an arm and leg thrown over him possessively.

            “We’re going to have to do that a lot more,” John said sleepily.

            “I’m glad you liked it,” Rodney replied, and John could hear the smug grin, even if he couldn’t see it.

            “Did you like it?” he asked, suddenly unsure.  Rodney turned in his arms to look at him.

            “Of course I did,” he said, as if he were surprised John had to ask.

            “You were just so… quiet.”

            Rodney laughed.

            “Yeah, I had a girlfriend once who told me the only time I ever shut up was when we were having sex.”  John frowned.  “She said it fondly,” Rodney assured him, “it was before I pushed her away and made her hate me.”  John gave him a little squeeze.

            “That’s not going to happen to us,” he said.  “I’m not going to let you push me away.”

            “Good.”

            Rodney turned back around, snuggling back against John’s chest.

            “John?”

            “Yeah?”

            “I’d like to try it sometime.  I mean, with you fucking me.  I don’t know if I’ll like it, but I’d like to try, is that OK?”

            “Absolutely.”

            They were quiet for a little while, and John felt himself starting to drift off when Rodney called him back.

            “John?”

            “Hmm?”

            “I love you.”

            John opened his eyes, coming fully awake.  He pushed himself up and Rodney rolled onto his back so he was looking up at him.

            “I love you so much, Rodney,” he said.  He leaned down and kissed him, soft and sweet, trying to put all his feeling into it.

            They settled back down, both wearing somewhat silly smiles, and fell asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is. I hope you enjoyed it. I was tempted to write another smutty chapter, but this felt like a good ending. Maybe if enough people comment, I'll consider writing a bit more! I also have an idea for a sequel, but I'm not sure. If you've enjoyed this fic, please let me know in the comments. Authors live for comments! And to everyone who left comments throughout: Thank You! Your encouragement has been so wonderful. I truly feel embraced by the fandom, and I appreciate it so much!


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